Alexander The Great
by Emerald Viper
Summary: This is the story of a Dawn Caste Solar.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE - THE FAESLAYER**

"Tepet Genji?" A voice growled.

My servants glanced at one another fearfully. They thought I was about to die.

I slowly turned to see who had called my name.

The soldier stood just beyond the light of our campfire. His eyes reflected green in the dark. Though he was dressed in beautiful golden armor and walking upright, I immediately noticed he had a tail. Like many of the Anathema's ferocious servants, he was a beastman, the bastard offspring of a demon and an animal.

I made a silent prayer to the Dragons for protection. The beastman gave me a curious look.

"Lord Faeslayer wishes to speak to you," he said.

"Then please take me to him," I replied cordially.

It was not as if I had a choice. I _was_his prisoner.

Since I am a scholar and not a warrior, I behaved as though I was resigned to my Fate. If my captors saw that I was obedient, they would not suspect that my mind was whirling with plans. My home was not far away, and the packs of demons roaming the countryside posed a danger to my people. I had been afforded a unique opportunity. I was already in the Anathema's camp. It was my duty to slay him, although that would not be easy. The Faeslayer was one of the Forsaken, and they were notoriously difficult to kill.

Not for the first time, I cursed my own recklessness. I'd known that it was dangerous to venture so close to Nexus. Everyone whispered about the Anathema gathering there, and the ancient city they had dredged up from the depths of the Yanaze River. In scarcely ten years time, the Faeslayer had amassed an enormous horde. Demons, beastmen, bandits, mercenaries, and even deserters from the Imperial Army filled its ranks. The Army of the New Deliberative scarcely ever moved, but it loomed like a thundercloud over all the Scavenger Lands.

Churning. Rumbling. _Waiting._

Still, after discovering a stack of old letters written by my mother, I decided that it would be worth facing a thousand demons to see where they led me.My mother had died when I was very young, and I knew precious little about her. My father and I barely tolerated one another. He had predicted that I would be captured and killed by the Faeslayer. I was determined to survive, if only to disappoint him.

To my surprise, the Anathema's soldiers treated me very well. Not one of my servants had been abused, and the food that we were all served morning and night was of such quality that I could scarcely believe that we were prisoners, and not honored guests.

The beastman led me in the direction of his master's tent. It looked exactly like the tent I had just left. The only sign that it belonged to someone of importance was a white banner hanging over the door. The golden sun symbol was unmistakable. More than a thousand years ago, the Anathema had ruled Creation, and they had left their mark all over it. I had seen that same heraldry on the pages of forbidden books, and on the crumbling walls of ancient ruins.

Of course, I'd never actually _met_ a demon before. Since my capture, I had seen the Faeslayer only once. From nearly a mile away, the demon's blazing anima had convinced one of my less-Enlightened servants that the sun was rising two hours early.

The beastman did not step into the tent before me. He only stood at attention, like a good soldier, and motioned for me to enter alone. I smoothed out my clothing as best as I could. I was Exalted by the grace of Sextis Jylis, a Prince of the Earth! I would not be afraid!

What I did see when my eyes adjusted to the ruddy lamplight of the Anathema's tent left me at a loss for words. Though the suit of ancient armor and the massive orichalcum daiklave which rested in the corner left me no doubt as to the true nature of my jailer, the Anathema himself was hardly imposing, at least not in a physical sense. He was slightly taller than six feet and he had the build of a runner, lithe and strong without the bulk of too much muscle. His skin was deeply tanned from many hours spent outdoors and his fine blond hair was bleached white from the sun. He glanced up at me as I entered and I found myself staring at his striking blue eyes.

"Ah! You must be Tepet Genji!" The Anathema exclaimed, a smile on his face. He spoke High Realm without the distinctly provincial accent that I had become so accustomed to while traveling in the Scavenger Lands. Even knowing what he was, I found him veryattractive.

"Tell me, how have my soldiers been treating you?" He pressed.

I averted my gaze. "What do you want from me?"

"I was about to explain," he replied, seeming distressed by my rude behavior. I ignored the chair meant for me and continued to stand a good distance away from him. It bothered me that the Anathema did not look down upon me as if I were an inferior being.

"Please, sit," he offered with the utmost civility, pouring me a goblet of the clearest water I had ever seen.

That was when I noticed a familiar wooden chest on the desk before him, my writing box which contained all of my precious paper and inks.

"You'll find that everything is in order," the Anathema informed me. "I understand that you are searching for your mother's manse."

"I am," I nodded. My mother's letters were sitting in a neat stack next to my writing box. Although the Anathema had obviously read through them, he had also re-folded them individually and tied them all back together with a piece of white ribbon. That message was very clear to me. Though the Faeslayer was a demon, he was _not_ a barbarian.

"Tomorrow morning my men will return your weapons and your provisions. You and your servants are free to go," he finished.

"You're releasing me? As simple as that?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"I only held you to verify your story," he replied, gesturing to my mother's letters. His manner was extremely straightforward, not at all the kind of riddle-speak that demons were so famous for. I tested his words with a Charm and found them to be completely honest. Though I suspected the Anathema might have been able to manipulate even my best magic, I still felt compelled to say something.

"Thank you," I paused. As much as I wanted to hate him for what he was, I could not find the strength to do so. There was something in his demeanor which was so… _likable! _Damn it all, why _wasn't _he a loathsome monster?

"Though I would ask one small favor," the Anathema admitted.

_ Ahah! __A __catch!_

"What sort of favor?" I wondered, instantly on my guard.

"Nothing very important. I'd like you to write a letter for me," he said.

"Surely you could…" I began, certain that such a simple request would not come without unpleasant strings attached.

"Write it myself?" he suggested. "I will if I must. But my High Realm is a bit rusty."

His speech sounded so perfect that I wondered what other motivation he might have for making such a peculiar request. I tried my Charm again and learned only that he _was_nervousabout the letter writing, though I still could not discern why.

I sipped my water. As an Aspect of Wood, I'm immune to most poisons, and if the Anathema truly wished me dead, he might have had me killed days ago. The water tasted as fresh as it appeared and the goblet he had poured it in was remarkable. I could not decide if it was made from crystal or pure silver, but it must have been terribly expensive.

"Also," the Faeslayer paused. "If I pen anything in my own hand, someone will use it to scry my whereabouts."

That excuse sounded much more reasonable to me. "Well, if that is the price for my freedom, so be it!"

I slowly opened my writing box, taking out a thick sheet of white rice paper, a bottle of fine black ink, and a delicate, precise, brush. Calligraphy has always come naturally to me. Considering how he'd cared for my mother's letters and my writing box, I suspected that the Anathema was one of those rare men who actually appreciated such a skill.

"To whom should this letter of yours be addressed?" I asked.

"To the Dragonlord Cathak Chiron," the Faeslayer replied. "My father."

I immediately dropped my brush and stared in shock. Dynastic social circles were always full of rumors. It was common to hear nasty things about powerful Houses such as Mnemon or Cathak. For many years, House Cathak had suffered from a particularly horrific scandal. It was said that Dragonlord Chiron had actually _hidden _an Anathema from the eyes of the Realm. No one knew why, but most suspected that the demon had taken on the form of someone dear to him. But his own son? My father would have _killed_ to learn such a thing! It was _bait _that the Faeslayer was offering me!

Out of spite, I decided I would not tell anyone. Or was it spite which made me wish to hold my tongue? Some of the things I had read in my mother's secret letters were troubling, and not for the first time, I found myself wondering how much I really knew about my own family. I drank down the water left in my glass. It made me feel a little better, but I was still nervous.

"More water?" The Faeslayer asked.

"Yes, please," I nodded.

He stood and went to a table in the corner of the room. For a moment, I considered attacking him from behind. Unfortunately, I did not have a weapon, and from the way he moved, I felt certain that the Faeslayer would quickly overpower me if I tried to choke him.

I was still sitting in my chair when the Anathema returned with a silver pitcher and a second goblet for himself. He filled mine first, and when he drank from his own, he never took his eyes off of me. He said nothing, but studied my expression with a slight smile. The longer I spent in his presence, the more at ease I felt.

He was infuriatingly perfect! How appropriate that evil should be so alluring, so difficult to resist!

"These goblets of yours are beautiful. The craftsmanship is exquisite," I paused.

"My wife made them," the Faeslayer replied.

"Are they silver?" I asked.

"Essence," he corrected.

"Essence?" I blinked in surprise. "_Very _impressive!"

"She is an impressive woman," the Faeslayer replied.

"I imagine so," I watched the Faeslayer as he sipped his own water.

Such grace he possessed! And his eyes! They were blue, but they contained tiny, almost imperceptible flecks of gold. Dragons, who could not wish to look into them?

I feared for a moment that the demon was in my mind, putting thoughts in my head that were not my own. I pushed my chair further away from his desk.

"Please don't do that. It's disconcerting," I said.

"What is?" He raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"You, behaving like a Dynast," I paused.

The Faeslayer laughed. "My father is a Dragonlord! I can recite my own lineage back to the beginning of the Shogunate! By birth and upbringing, I _am _a Dynast!"

I snorted.

He sighed. "I'm sure you think this is preposterous, but when I was a child, my nickname was "Little Monk". I _begged_my father to let me join the Immaculate Order! He sent me to Paisap's Stair instead. I suppose he hoped it would prove my blood."

Paisap's Stair was a notoriously dangerous school for the ill-bred and illegitimate. The instructors there were charged with pushing their pupils towards Enlightenment. Sometimes they managed to draw down the blessing of the Dragons. More often, their efforts proved fatal. Not that it mattered. If the child of a Dynast could not Exalt as a Prince of the Earth, he or she was worth nothing.

"Well, obviously, you didn't Exalt," I replied.

The Faeslayer smiled. "We Solars _are _Exalts, Genji."

I'd never heard anything more absurd, but I held my tongue.

"Use your Charms on me!" He volunteered. "I'm no monster. In fact, you and I are probably very much alike."

I did not believe him, of course.

But I found that I wanted to.


	2. Chapter 1 - Dawn

**ONE - Dawn**

I had a privileged childhood, a thing which I am not ashamed of. My father, Cathak Chiron, was wealthy and influential, able to provide the very best for his children. I never wanted for anything, but nor was I spoiled. A lifelong soldier, my father also believed that too much coddling was the surest way to raise a useless son.

I received my earliest education from Immaculate monks, and spent many lazy afternoons dreaming of leading gallant Wyld Hunts against fair folk and demons. I was only four years when my father returned to the Blessed Isle after the capture of Lookshy, but I can still clearly remember his glorious victory parade.

Had I been a legitimate child, I might have been groomed as a candidate for the Scarlet Throne, but my mother was a servant girl of no importance. To be honest, I never knew her. According to some of my relatives, my stepmother had dismissed her for being lazy, and according to others, she'd simply run away. It never mattered to me. From a young age, I took care of myself. Being a Dragonlord, my father was often away, and my stepmother, an aspiring politician, was far too busy to care for children. She rarely spent any time with her own son, and in her eyes, I was not worth the rice I ate for breakfast. No matter how I tried to please her, she always seemed annoyed that my father "wasted" so much of his time with me.

I was similarly doted on by my great-aunt Garel, who is often revered as the foremost military historian of the Realm. Every Dragonlord has read and re-read her books on Shogunate Era warfare. From an early age, I was aware of how special my relationship with "Aunt" Garel was. Most young Dynasts see very little of their elder relatives, but my aunt was already very old when I was born. I would climb the cherry trees in her garden and stare out over the walls of our estate, imagining far-off cities and dramatic battles. When Aunt Garel put down her pen, I scurried down from my perch and begged her to tell me stories about the heroes of our House, particularly my father.

There was nothing I wanted more than to make my father proud. Like a moth drawn to a candle's flame, I chased that feeble hope that our family's patron Hesiesh, the Elemental Dragon of Fire, would find me worthy of Exaltation. My greatest aspiration was to join my father's legendary Scarlet Legion. With that hope in mind, I worked harder than most of my siblings, received better marks in school, and practiced my fighting skills even when I was not expected to.

I took to heart the lessons of the Immaculates, believing that if I behaved like one of the Exalted I would surely join their honored company. At the age of ten, I was sent to Paisap's Stair, a notoriously dangerous school designed to "prove the blood" of those without good breeding. It was not an easy place to be the son of a Dragonlord, but I was strong-willed, fast, and more skilled than most everyone my age. For my first few years, I was the teacher's favorite and the head of my class... but then some of my fellow students began to Exalt.

Though there was no limit to my ambition, I soon discovered that I could not match the raw ability of the Dragonblooded. By the time I turned seventeen, I was quite convinced that my instructors at Paisap's Stair intended to kill me if that was what it would take to get Hesiesh's attention. Still, I kept my head up, and believed for as long as I could that I would be Chosen.

I never was.

For the first time in my life, I had disappointed my family, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had always exceeded the expectations placed upon me. I had devoted myself to _One Thousand Correct Actions _and _The Book of the Righteous Soldier_. I'd done everything right! But somehow, I had not done enough!

There were none of the usual festivities on my eighteenth birthday, and my beloved aunt refused to attend dinner. Her only words to me were cold, concealing more pain than she dared express. She advised me to pray for Enlightenment in a future life. I was dead to her already.

I felt compelled to rebel against my Fate. I had finished my tenure at Paisap's Stair, graduating near the top of my class despite not being a Dragonblood. It was common for those who failed to Exalt to join the Immaculate Order, and for a time, I again considered becoming a monk. Although I loved the tranquility of the Abbey of Mela, stories of battles called out to me more strongly than any sacred texts. More importantly, after my years at Paisap's Stair, I could not conceive of a living in a place that did not resemble a military encampment.

I enlisted in the Imperial Army. I rose through the lower ranks very quickly, as good soldiers often do. Even if the path of a Dragonlord was closed to me, I knew that I could still pursue some small command. In every respect, I continued to excel in my chosen profession, and I believe that my father was proud of me, or at least as proud as he could be of a son who had failed him in the worst way imaginable.

All of my efforts to redeem myself were eclipsed by the Exaltation of my younger brother Jaret, which occurred in the summer of _his_sixteenth year. This came as a terrible shock to every member of House Cathak, and not only because Jaret was already past the age where Exaltation was expected. Although he was my father's only _legitimate_ son, Jaret was not held in high regard by most of our family. He was nearly disowned dozens of times and usually kept under someone else's supervision. I had always felt a certain responsibility towards him myself, being six years his senior.

No matter how I tried to inspire him, Jaret consistently neglected his studies. Drinking and gambling were his chief pasttimes and though he was a good fighter, he viewed responsibility of any kind with the same sort of disdain that most people reserved for ticks and lice. And yet somehow Hesiesh saw fit to Exalt _him_instead of _me_!

At first I was furious at the Dragons for choosing my brother who had never respected anyone or anything in his life. My father casually dismissed my harsh appraisal of Jaret's character. He believed that my brother would "grow into" his gifts and to some extent, Jaret's Second Breath did change him. He soon discovered that with his new strength, he could afford to behave more recklessly than ever before.

Jaret's whoring, drinking, and gambling became the plague of our House, and eventually it was decided that something drastic had to be done. In the end, my stepmother arranged everything. My brother would turn down a prestigious commission on the Blessed Isle, a soft position which he favored. Instead, he would travel to the Scavenger Lands, joining Winglord Mnemon Rai's infamous legion, the Ravenous Winds. Jaret was twenty-three years old, and had attended a cushy private school in lieu of Paisap's Stair. He was ill-prepared for a military career, and I was certain that he wouldn't last more than a season with the Winds.

I was already accustomed to life under "Old Thunderstormer's" command. When I'd failed to Exalt, I was not given the opportunity to join my father's Scarlets, but there were other legions where mere mortals could expect to be promoted out of the bottom ranks. Mnemon Rai had personally selected me from my class at Paisap's Stair. He admired my tenacity and promised that if I continued to show courage and sound judgment, he would one day make me an officer.

I knew that "officer" meant something low-ranking such as a Scalelord or a Fanglord, but that was still a generous offer. My father believed that mortals had no business commanding themselves, and were certainly unfit to lead any unit which also included young Dragonblooded.

It has often been said that the Ravenous Winds march more miles in a single campaign than any army in Creation, and that Mnemon Rai hunts Anathema like some pretentious nobles hunt pheasants. All of that is true. Most importantly, however, "Old Thunderstormer" characteristically favors grit over breeding and commands one of the few legions in the Realm where a mere mortal might actually be promoted over a Prince of the Earth.

Though he seldom played political games, when I returned to the Scavenger Lands with my younger brother in tow, Mnemon Rai understood that he would be expected to give my father's "useless" son a position which suited his status as a Dragonlord's heir. He dutifully granted Jaret command of two Scales, and demoted me so that I could serve as my brother's second officer. It was difficult for me to lose the little rank that I had worked so hard for, but Mnemon Rai was only a Winglord, and I knew who had really decided the matter.

I did my best to hold my tongue, reminding myself that filial piety was one of the stepping stones towards Enlightenment. If it was my father's will that I make my brother look respectable, then I would strive to do so. But it was not easy. From that day forward, I knew that Jaret would reap all of the glory while I did all the work.

The first few months we served together were murderous. Jaret quickly learned the importance of properly caring for his own weapons when there was no one else to tend them. He stopped complaining about rain, dirt, and insects when someone drew a humiliating picture of him dressed in ridiculous silks and a little feathered hat. As the reality of his predicament began to set in, Jaret actually became tolerable. We had a few good conversations while on the march and one cold, rainy night, I finally mustered up the courage to ask my brother what I had never dared to ask anyone before.

It was terribly presumptuous for a mortal to request personal information from any Dragonblooded, even a relative. But feeling the heat of my brother's flaring anima close by as we charged into battle had awakened an old desire in me. I wanted to know what it felt like to Exalt. Jaret told me simply that at the moment of his Second Breath, the world became "a different sort of place".

I did not understand what he meant by those words, but I slowly came to accept what Hesiesh had obviously intended. If Jaret had become the rock on which all of our father's hopes and dreams rested, it was my duty to teach him. And in doing so, I would be serving my House.

I was finally resigned to my role as Jaret's keeper when our Wing came to the gates of Nexus. Nexus is a very interesting city with a long and storied history. Since the fall of the Shogunate more than seven hundred years ago, it had been ruled by massive organization known as the Guild, which is primarily composed of honest merchants, but also includes slavers, brothel madams, and drug peddlers.

The Guild's unofficial leader, an enigmatic individual called "The Emissary" once roamed the streets of Nexus at night, nailing grand-sounding proclamations to doors and doling out "justice" however he saw fit. The legal system was complex and labyrinthine, but above any of the petty "regulations" and "ordinances" were two great "Laws". The first was "No One Shall Obstruct Trade Within The City" and the second was "The City Will Keep No Army, Nor Suffer Any Army to Pass Through Her Gates", which was perceived as a direct challenge to the authority of the Realm.

Many Dynasts, including my stepmother, protested that Nexus should be crushed for daring to contest the right of the Dragonblooded to rule Creation. Although my father had defeated Lookshy's powerful Seventh Legion, he still felt compelled to stay on good terms with the Guild. As they often say, "an army marches on its stomach", and if the merchants were angry, soldiers would likely starve or freeze to death in the field.

Needless to say, Jaret and I were both quite surprised to discover that our commander Mnemon Rai had somehow acquired a special dispensation from the Emissary himself which allowed the Ravenous Winds to camp without fear of reprisal outside of Nexus's walls. Officers could even enter the city on a day pass, provided that they signed a dozen waivers.

It was terribly exciting to set foot in Nexus, one of the oldest and most populous cities in Creation. The river was filthy and the streets were loud and crowded, but the place still possessed a certain grandeur that made me wish I could have seen it centuries ago, before so many wars had taken their toll. Though I would have preferred the opportunity to explore some of the ruined palaces and ancient tombs which dotted every District, Jaret and I had been instructed to proceed directly to the home of our cousin Lao. A son of my father's youngest sister, Lao held stake in several nearby mines. Those mines poured coin into the coffers of House Cathak as they had for generations, but recently our cousin had stopped receiving his weekly shipments of jade.

Lao expressed his concerns and begged us, for the good of our House, to see if we could learn anything about the situation. Though the mines were not far away, I hesitated. I had heard unpleasant things about the area, and feared that we might be getting involved in something dangerous. Still, it was clear that Jaret would not pass up the opportunity to impress our father, and possibly win an invitation back to the Blessed Isle. Without asking permission from Mnemon Rai, Jaret took our soldiers to investigate.

In retrospect, I should never have allowed him to do such a thing. Had I gone straight to our commander, Old Thunderstormer would have doubtless condemned my brother's actions and demoted him on the spot. Jaret had never fought in an actual battle before. Even if our soldiers _were_technically under his command, all of them were men and women whose experience exceeded his own.

Though I did argue with him, Jaret seemed deaf to my words. I shouted at his back for several miles until I grew hoarse. My hand never left the hilt of my sword.

I knew the moment I saw purple smoke rising from the Morning Star Mine that we had stumbled upon fae. I felt like I'd swallowed molten lead and immediately drew my weapon clear of its sheath.

Fae are an ancient race. They can change their shapes at will, and are fond of stories, riddles, and horrible "games" which include eating humans, warping their bodies and minds, and even consuming their souls in an act called "Ravishing". Malevolent by nature, fae delight in cruelty and seek to transform whatever they can sink their claws into back into formless Wyld. They have no sense of honor or loyalty and will cheat their way out of anything they are not sworn to uphold. On the battlefield, many prefer to view their fallen comrades simply as a source of fresh meat.

I had warned Jaret about the possibility of fae numerous times, but my brother was so intent on making a name for himself that he left me with no choice but to undercut his authority. I ordered our soldiers to stop and hold their position on the edge of the forest. The moment I started giving orders, everyone pulled away from Jaret. My brother was mortified. He realized, perhaps for the first time, that his authority was not what he had believed it was.

Unfortunately, my decision wounded more than Jaret's pride. My brother knew that most of our House still considered him a failure. He spat curses at me, revoked my rank, and vowed that he would have me dismissed from the Winds for insubordination. Like an angry child, he ran into the woods alone, calling us all cowards, and claiming that Hesiesh would prevail.

And so I did the only thing I could do. I sent a messenger to Mnemon Rai and ran after my brother.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I finally reached the mine. I'd seen some terrible things in my time with the Winds, but never such devastation. All of the buildings were burning, there were mutilated corpses everywhere, and the air was thick with putrid smoke. The ground looked dry and solid beneath my feet, but it sloshed like deep mud and felt unsteady. Wyld was burning through the rightful shape of the world. Soon, the trees would become carnivorous monsters, and hordes of formless nightmare creatures would start pouring into Creation. If I stayed too long in such a place, the chaos would infect me like a plague. I had seen men return from fae encounters with tails, extra eyes, or other poxes too horrible to describe. Madness, which was the usual result, seemed like a mercy by comparison.

Before I could shout for Jaret, I saw him lying face down in a pool of murky water mixed with his own blood. He was surrounded by a dozen jabbering goblins with piglike snouts and enormous teeth. I would have believed him to be dead if he hadn't still been flaring with Essence. His fiery red anima burned so brightly that I could feel the heat of it where I hid. Jaret struggled to his knees. As the fae closed in around him, I was compelled to make my presence known.

"Back! Go away!" I shouted, charging in with my sword held high. Most of the goblins scattered. A few weren't quite fast enough. I'd often coveted my brother's fine jade daiklave, but I was grateful for my simple blade then. Cold iron is the bane of the fae. They cannot heal the wounds they receive, and chains or cages of such metal can also prevent them from using their corruptive powers.

Though the goblins could have easily regrouped and mobbed me after my first awkward assault, they began to nervously move towards the trees. About half of their numbers skittered up into the higher branches, making horrible screeching noises. My brother scrambled to his feet. I almost gave him my arm before I remembered that the Essence flaring around him would burn me.

"Loren? You followed me?" Jaret blinked in surprise. If he'd been angry with me for opposing his authority before, he'd since forgiven me. He knew that he had made a mistake, and now he feared that both of us would pay the price for it.

"Of course I did. Exalted or not, you're still my brother," I replied.

"Where is everyone else?" he asked.

"It was _idiocy_ for you to charge in here, Jaret. I hope you understand that now," I sighed.

He scowled, but then his expression softened. He did not like what I'd said, but he knew that I was right. If my messenger made it to the Winds, Mnemon Rai would be able to prevent the fae from decimating the nearby farms and villages, but no one would arrive soon enough to save the two of us.

Jaret's eyes drifted slowly skyward. "Something is coming," he whispered fearfully.

I sensed as much myself. I made a slow circle around Jaret, watching the trees for any sign of movement. A furious rumbling began beneath our feet, causing little stones to jump into the air. Whatever was headed our way was huge!

That was when the most terrible beast I'd ever seen came barreling out of the trees. At least thirty feet long, it had a centipede-like body composed of pieces of rotting flesh and a large, circular maw ringed with yellowed teeth. It let loose an earsplitting squeal, splattering both of us with gore. At first I thought that nothing could be more horrifying than a giant, Wyld-mutated carrion-eater… but then I noticed that the ground we were standing on had begun to crack.

Jaret seized my arm and wretched me after him into the brush. The section of my lamellar armor that he touched instantly burned through my clothing, searing my skin. I scarcely noticed the pain. We clung to a mess of roots and rubble as the mine opened up beneath us, a pit so deep that no light reached the bottom of it. The sound of the earth caving in was deafening.

We both stared in horror. Were we still on unstable ground? It seemed so.

"I should have listened to you, Loren," Jaret whispered. It was a tremendous concession for him. Obviously he believed that his life was over and was weighing his mistakes.

Seeing my brother so vulnerable and afraid, I forgave him for everything he had ever done. I no longer felt any of my petty jealousies and decided that if one of us was going to be killed, it would not be Jaret. My brother had so much more ahead of him than I did, more than I ever would! And after staring death in the face for the first time, he was beginning to understand what it meant to be a soldier.

"Listen to me now. I'll buy you time. Run!" I ordered him.

Cackles and jeers from the goblins in the trees turned into shrieks of terror as I raised my sword and charged after them. The ground collapsed behind me with each step that I took, but I did not hesitate, not for a heartbeat!

I was in no condition to fight. I already had several bloody gashes from fae claws, and the burn my brother had accidentally given me throbbed with pain. I only hoped that I could wound the monster before it swallowed me whole. But then I saw something I had not expected, the perfect opening. I leapt into the air as if I believed I could fly. The distance between myself and the monster would have been difficult for even a Dragonblooded to clear, but I flew as if I had wings on my heels.

That was when I felt it.

_ Power!_

Power beyond all comparison!

A white-gold haze filled my vision as I struck with strength that I should not have possessed, severing the monster's head in a single, clean blow. It collapsed at my feet with a rumble that shook the earth, and caused more rubble to cascade into the mine.

I listened to the pounding of my heart, and felt something both new and terrifyingly familiar coursing through my body. I did not have to ask what it was. The gift of Heaven. _Essence._

As I stared at the corpse of the monster, I began to remember battles to the likes of which Creation had not seen, not in thousands of years! I saw myself leading legions of men, commanding impossible war machines, and routing hordes of fae back into the Wyld. I felt a blade in my hand and _knew _that I had once stood alone in the shadow a terrible, raging, Primordial, an enormous being of pure chaos older than the world itself.

And I thought to myself… _this_ is what I was born to do!

All my life, _this _is what I've waited for!

The sheer glory of it brought tears to my eyes. Even after my head cleared, I could still taste that long-ago victory. I felt like a priest standing before the altar, in the presence of a god. I was compelled to offer a prayer of thanks, but the words stuck in my throat. They were in a language that I did not realize I had forgotten.

The teachings of the Immaculates say that we have all lived many times before, and that only the truly blessed are capable of recalling what they have been or done. I knew with absolute certainty that what I had witnessed was my own soul's memories, and that I had somehow borrowed a fraction of the strength I'd once possessed.

I didn't consider how impossible what I had just done was until I saw the monster's severed head. Its teeth were as long as my hand, and its neck was covered in articulated gossamer plates, armor that I should not have been able to cut through, not even with a cold iron sword. My blade had been shattered completely, but I did not feel defenseless.

I felt _invincible._

But I also sensed a presence behind me. I slowly turned.

A pale young woman stood on the edge of the trees, flanked by a dozen goblins. She was dressed in a furisode of spun gossamer that made her look like a Shogunate-Era princess. Her skin and her were the color of winter ice. The moment she stepped into the light, I saw that she was no woman at all, but a misshapen fiend with eight limbs, and dozens of eyes sewn all over her face.

I stared. I had never seen a faerie queen before, and yet I _knew_ that was what she was.

"Leave this place, you fiend! Go back to the Wyld!" I ordered, pointing what little was left of my sword at her. My own voice sounded strange to me. It _resonated _with a force that was nearly visible!

"You dare command me?" The faerie queen sneered, stepping out of the green.

I laughed at her arrogance. The Essence that filled me felt like magnificent armor just beneath the surface of my skin. I was as giddy as a child, playing the role of a hero in _The Tales of the Wandering Monk_. "Come any closer, and I'll send you to meet your monster!" I taunted.

The goblins in the trees wavered. They wanted to flee!

Of course, I _had _just killed their mistress's very impressive pet

The faerie queen hesitated.

"Tiger, tiger burning bright. Today you've won," the faerie queen watched me warily and licked her lips, as if she were faced with a great and worthy opponent, one whose blood she desired above all else. We stood less than three feet apart and studied one another. "But you have not seen the last of me!" She warned, and then vanished as if she had never been.

There was no mistaking such a threat, but I still found myself smiling. No one would believe me if I told them that I'd faced a faerie queen and lived to tell of it!

But that didn't matter. I knew I'd done it, and Jaret had witnessed the fight!

"Jaret!" I shouted. I ran for my brother. He'd only scrambled a few feet away from where I'd left him. He looked very small and fragile, and his eyes were full of fear. A tempest of golden light cut through the smoke between us like the rising sun through early morning clouds. It was not until I saw my brother's face that I realized that the light I saw was coming from _me_.

The first word Jaret spoke cut through my heart like a spear of ice. "_Anathema!_" He spat, venom in his voice. His eyes narrowed.

"What?" I stared at him in disbelief. I knew what that word meant. The Anathema were the very worst of all fiends, the chief enemies of Creation.

I stared at my own hands. I was burning even brighter than Jaret, and I sensed that there was something very clearly visible on my brow, something I had no words to describe. It didn't hurt, but it was impossible to ignore. All too late, I realized what it had to be.

A demon brand? _Impossible!_

"Jaret, it's me, Loren!" I protested. "Your brother!"

"Liar!" He cried. Leaping at me with a speed I had not thought he possessed, he swung his blade at my head. "You're not my brother! You're one of the Forsaken! Did you kill Loren? Answer me, did you kill him?"

Since I had no weapon myself, I was forced to dodge his first awkward assault. "Jaret, stop! I swear it! Idiot! Stop, please! Look at me! " I begged. For certain, I knew that something had changed within me... but how could I have become be a demon?

Being an Exalt, Jaret should have easily bested me in a fight. Still, as he attacked recklessly, I found that I could easily parry his every blow. It was more than just my brother's wounds slowing him down, that much was obvious. I was somehow _better _than I had ever been!

Jaret did not falter. He forced me back a dozen paces and then caught me off guard. His daiklave struck solidly against my shoulder, shattering my armor but glancing harmlessly off of my skin which glowed like new bronze. The force of his blow sent him staggering backwards. I reached out to grab him before he toppled into the chasm, but the moment I caught his hand, he drove his blade into my gut. I was so stunned by the pain that I doubled over. And as I dropped to my knees, Jaret fell into the mine.

I think I knew the moment that my brother died. Still, I ignored my own wounds, and made haste in searching for him, hoping that he still held Hesiesh's favor. As I scrambled and slid down into the dark, I was struck by how my presence burned all the shadows away, like the sun rising in the morning. When I finally found Jaret's broken body, I collapsed to my knees.

I sat and stared at my reflection in a pool of water and blood. What should have been a familiar face was nothing but a blur of gold that almost held the shape of a man. Wounded as I was, I sensed that I should have bled far more than I did, but I no longer felt gloriously invulnerable. The corona of light around me began to fade, and by the time I'd carried Jaret back to the surface, I could see my face again. But I still sensed the raw power inside of me, and knew that I could call upon it as easily as I might draw a sword. It was absolutely terrifying, so much more than I had ever dreamt of.

IcarriedJaret back to Mnemon Rai. No one seemed to notice that I had changed, so I said nothing about what had happened, too shaken by the events to make any sense of them and still unconvinced that Jaret was gone, despite the fact that I was drenched in his blood and my own. I remembered what my brother had said about the world "different" after he Exalted, and I feared that the worst was yet to come.


	3. Chapter 2 - Amira

**Chapter 2 – Amira**

As soon as I met with Mnemon Rai, I sent a letter to our father, informing him of Jaret's death. I knew that it would take several months for him to receive the news and I wanted my message to arrive on The Blessed Isle before I did. I said nothing of my brother turning on me. His notoriously impulsive son being killed by the fae was something my father would understand. I didn't dare confess what had really happened. In truth, I did not believe that he could stand to lose both of us at once.

I was permitted to rest until I felt well enough to travel, at which point I was responsible for bringing my brother's remains home. Being that ours is a military House, the Cathak cemetery is somewhat larger than most of those in the Imperial City. Even still, it is reserved exclusively for the Dragonblooded members of the family. Jaret would be interred with our elder sister and some cousins who'd been killed at Thorns. Our father would deliver a heartfelt tribute to his valor, Aunt Garel would write his story into her books, and every year after Calibration Jaret's mother would bring flowers to his grave. When I died, I knew that there would be no such ceremony for me. I would be buried wherever I fell, and my name would be forgotten.

Had I ever dwelt on my death before? I could not remember if I had, but I knew for certain that it had never felt more immanent. Someone would learn the secret that I was trying to bury, and since I knew I could not bring myself to raise my sword against a friend or family member, I would be cut down like a rabid dog.

Mnemon Rai immediately promoted me back to my old rank, giving me not only the two Scales that Jaret had commanded, but another hundred soldiers formerly assigned to a Dragonblood he'd dismissed. He did not actually name me "Fanglord", but he implied that he would like to. I said very little and listened obediently as Mnemon Rai explained that he wanted to see how I would handle myself if I were given more power and responsibility.

I did not object to the honor, but hearing soldiers whispering about my sudden promotion did not sit well with me. I barely slept for weeks. Though I carried out my new duties without complaint, everyone from the camp followers who handled our baggage to the Winglord himself knew that I was Jaret's keeper. They were all as kind to me as soldiers ever were, which is to say that they left me alone. Perhaps they thought that I was blaming myself for my brother's death.

But the truth was, I could not even think of Jaret. Whenever I closed my eyes for longer than a heartbeat, images flooded into my mind and familiar voices rang in my ears. At first I thought I was hallucinating from the drugs I had been given, but the feeling that came over me as I drifted between waking and sleep was more akin to accessing an unstoppable torrent of memories, the memories of my past self.

I first dreamt that I was the commander of a great army. That in itself was not unusual for me. I imagine that most ambitious young soldiers fantasize about such things. The problem was, in days past I had seen myself serving the Realm, making my father proud, and bringing great honor to House Cathak. Following Jaret's death… well, I didn't know what I was seeing! My lessons in history led me to believe that I was witnessing a time long before the rise of the Shogunate. Still, what I remembered was so different from anything Aunt Garel had ever taught me about.

The city I lived in was staggeringly beautiful. My life was a whirlwind of grand campaigns and state events. Everyone I spoke to treated me with the utmost respect and I lived in a magnificent palace overlooking a pristine blue river and rolling green hills.

Always at my side was a weapon of surpassing beauty, a daiklave with a six-foot blade forged of a lustrous golden metal that I recognized as orichalcum. The magical ore was exceedingly rare and known for its tremendous weight. No mortal or Dragonblood could hope to wield such a blade, which left me with only one conclusion. In the life that I was remembering, I had been one of the Forsaken Anathema. Or... what were the words that my past self would have used?

_Dawn Caste. Solar._

The first night that I slept soundly, I dreamt of a woman. I'd sensed for some time that she was present when I returned to my palace, but she always seemed to be sitting or standing somewhere where I could not see her face. I knew that she would sometimes rest her head on my shoulder as I watched the sun rise – the sound of her breathing was unmistakable, and the sensation of her fingers trailing along the back of my neck was intimately familiar to me. I could find no words to describe how those early morning memories made me feel, except that I was more at peace than I had ever been. There was a certain "rightness" in the world that had too long eluded me.

_ "__Where __do __you __want __to __go __for __breakfast?__" __My __lover __asked._

_ I __turned__ my head __slowly, __taking__ in her appearance__.__ She was d__ressed __in __a __form-fitting __gown __of __dark __blue silk __that __accentuated __all __of __her __curves.__Her __hair __was __silver__ and cut so that it made her peculiar ears very difficult to ignore__.__ Like her golden eyes, they would have better suited a wolf than a woman. And yet despite how strange she looked, she was still beautiful to me. Her lips were especially enticing._

_ "__How __about __Calypsis?__" __I __suggested, __naming __a __place __that__ I knew was very far away__._

_ "__It__'__ll __take __us __all __day __to __get __there.__" __She __replied.__ "__Don__'__t __you __have __to __meet __with __Perfect __this __afternoon?__"_

_ "__I__'__ve __already __canceled.__" __I __replied.__ "__In __fact,__I__'__ve __canceled __every __one __of __my __appointments __until __the __fifth __of __Ascending __Fire. __I__'__ve __also __taken __the __liberty __of __clearing __up __your __schedule.__"_

_ "__You __took __a __whole __month __off?__" __She__ gasped__.__ "__Who __are __you, __and __what __have __you __done __with __my __Alexander?__" __She __demanded,__ her hands on her hips._

_ The moment she called me that name, I began thinking of myself as "Alexander" instead of Loren. _

_ "__What?__Amira, __you __said __you __wanted __to __get __away__,__and __so __I __arranged __it!__Though __I __can__'__t __imagine __what __we__'__re __going __to __do __with __so __much __free __time!__"I teased._

_ "__Oh, __I__'__m __sure__ we__'__ll __think __of __something!__" __She__ knocked __me __right __out __of __my __chair __and __onto __the __floor._

I woke before sunrise. That was not particularly unusual for me, but my heart was racing. I found myself searching for Amira before I realized that the woman I was remembering had probably been dead for at least a thousand years. Then my eyes came to rest on a familiar pair of scuffed boots.

"Hey, Boss." My student smirked, watching me with amusement. "Roach" was fifteen years old, a short, wiry, Murqai boy with unruly hair and a smile permanently fixed on his face. I'd found him in the desert five years ago while marching back from Chiarascuro and he'd been following me ever since. By official rule, there were no servants or masters in The Winds, but Mnemon Rai had made a rare exception for Roach, mostly because he had nowhere else to go.

Though in a Wing of a thousand soldiers it is impossible to know everyone, Roach rose to the challenge. Claiming The Winds as his new tribe, he quickly learned the rules of the camp and could track down any man or woman within minutes. Widely recognized as the whore's son "protégé" of the House Cathak "disappointment", Roach was also teased mercilessly. Some of the things people said about him were downright cruel, but Roach never seemed to mind. His response to everything was to make a joke of it, and his sharp sense of humor won him some peace. From the time of our first meeting, he'd decided that I was the only officer he needed to impress, and he considered it his solemn duty to anticipate my every need, a trait of his which I found irritating.

"Roach, what time is it?" I wondered.

"Fifth bell." He informed me. "Talonlord Ozai thought you looked sick. Told me to keep you in bed."

I'd never slept past fifth bell before.

"My head is killing me." I groaned, slowly sitting up.

"So who's this "Amira"?" Roach teased.

I felt all the warmth drain out of my face at the sound of that name.

Roach laughed. "Easy, easy! I won't say anything! She's married, eh?"

I didn't answer that question, but Roach evidentially thought that the expression on my face told him everything. Of course, being only fifteen years old, Roach didn't know anything about women, but inexperience would not stop him from acting like an expert on the subject.

"Heh. Didn't know you had it in you, Boss." He helped me to my feet. "How's your wound today?"

I slowly stood up. I was still a little dizzy, but I figured that some fresh air would probably clear my head. "Better. I think I'm going to go for a walk." I decided.

"I'll come along!" Roach volunteered. "You know, you're not all that steady on your feet yet." He followed close to my heels as if he were expecting me to fall.

"Roach, I've been wounded before!" I informed him, though that was an understatement. I'd sustained many serious injuries in my years with The Winds, mostly because I preferred to be on the front line. "I know what my body can take, and right now I'm going down to the river for a _bath_!"

Roach grimaced, and I suspected that it was because I had used the terrible word "bath". Like most Southerners, Roach did not like to wash as often as I considered civilized.

"I promise, I'll be back before the sun comes up!" I sighed. "If I'm not, you can come find me."

Strange as it seemed, I knew the precise time in the space of a heartbeat and was certain that I could make it down to the river and back again before the first rays of light passed over the mountains to the east. What I could not explain was _how _I knew.

"You got it, Boss!" Roach gave a little salute.

I smiled slightly. My student was shaping into an exceptional soldier. For the first year that he'd been attached to The Winds, I'd used him as a groom for my horse, thinking of him as I thought of all the servants in my father's house. But by the time that Roach was twelve, he'd become fluent in High Realm and had started inquiring about Mnemon Rai's tactics. I made him read all the books that I'd read at Paisap's Stair and began teaching him how to wield a sword, not like a common thug, but like a Dynast.

Even if he was irreverent and mischievous, Roach was far smarter than anyone gave him credit for. I had noticed how Old Thunderstormer already watched him. Though he would wait for me to suggest that Roach was ready, I did not doubt that Mnemon Rai would soon see my student put in lamellar and officially sworn into the Winds.

As soon as I was beyond sight of our camp, I ran as if my life depended on it, putting as much distance as I could between myself and The Winds. I followed the river until it began to wind deep into the forest. No one would believe that I had recovered as quickly as I had. I wasn't even slowed down by the war wounds I'd had for years.

When I was sure that I hadn't been followed, I knelt on the grassy bank and stared into the deep blue water. There was something I had to do that I didn't dare attempt unless I knew I was alone.

My dreams had begun planting seeds of doubt in my heart. I was beginning to wonder how much of what had happened at the mine was real and how much I'd only imagined. I knew I had to act decisively or I risked going completely insane. I clenched my fists so tightly that I dug my nails into my palms. I could still sense that I had a power inside of me. Though I wished it would, that feeling had never gone away. But what was it? Perhaps I could speak with the thing that had chosen me as its host.

"Reveal yourself, monster!" I ordered out loud.

Nothing happened.

Was I possessed or wasn't I?

I decided that I should probably avoid throwing about the names of the demons that I was familiar with, lest I accidentally call one of them from the bowels of Malfeas. I sat in silence for a moment, and then I scoffed at my stupidity.

There _was _another answer, a much simpler one! If things that I saw in my ceaseless dreams were real, I'd Exalted… and at age thirty, no less! I knew that what made the Dragonblooded different from ordinary mortals was a gift called Essence, a power breathed into them by the Elemental Dragons. Using Essence was an act of will, a conscious decision. Fire-Aspects like my father and brother could burn like torches. Wind and Water-Aspects became raging tempests, Earth-Aspects were immovable as stone and Wood-Aspects could poison or heal with only a touch.

The way I felt matched every description I had ever heard of Exaltation. Whatever it was within me was not parasitic or alien. It felt like a part of me, as natural as my heartbeat! I knew that I could choose to see the golden light that flowed through my veins, just as easily as I could choose to sit up, stand, or lie down.

_ Mark. _I thought to myself.

I felt a pinch just above my nose. It was almost like blinking, more startling than painful. I stared at my reflection in the slow-moving, dark water… the unmistakable demon brand flickering right between my eyes. The shape reminded me at once of a stylized morning sun, being exactly the same soft, white color.

Was that what I become? Sun-Chosen? And how could such a thing be _evil_? For the briefest of moments I saw my face superimposed upon the face of my past self. I was struck by how much I looked like him… or was it he who looked like me?

A rustle in the bushes drew my attention. I looked up and caught sight of a large silver wolf watching me with fiercely intelligent, intensely familiar yellow eyes. I picked myself up slowly and began to walk away. When I glanced over my shoulder to see if the wolf was still following me, I swallowed the lump that rose up in my throat. The beast was gone and standing in its place was the woman from my dreams. She wore a short dress of white linen, tawny leather sandals which laced all the way up to her knees and a fine velvet coat with silver buttons in her favorite shade of dark blue. Her hair was cut boyishly short and I would have named her a rogue if her poise has not been so extraordinary. She carried herself like a queen. Except for her attire, she wouldn't have looked out of place standing before the Scarlet Empress. The tattoos which covered her skin glowed in the fading light of the moon.

"_Alexander_?" She put her hand to her heart. I didn't respond. What could I have said? Did I dare admit that I was beginning to doubt who I actually was?

With the grace of a dragonfly, Amira skimmed across the surface of the water, her feet barely breaking its surface. She seemed like a ghost to me, intangible until she collapsed into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The warmth of her body and her smell left me convinced that she was no spirit or illusion, but a living, breathing woman. I didn't have the heart to let go of her. I suspect in some ways I needed her at that moment even more than she needed me.

It wasn't until she stopped crying and looked up at me that I understood. The time that I remembered Amira from was centuries ago. No mere mortal or even Dragonblood could have possibly survived so long! My hand brushed something soft and I realized that she had a _tail_. I didn't know I'd missed something so important. She was a demon, a shape-changing Lunar!

"Anathema?" I whispered fearfully, drawing away from her.

"Alexander?" She stepped back slightly herself, as if she feared that she had been deceived.

"Go away, Trickster!" I ordered, shaken.

"It is you, isn't it? Don't you recognize me?" As I started walking, she followed after me. "Have I changed that much?" The desperation in her voice was horrible. I almost couldn't bear it. If I didn't leave immediately, I was either going to choke on my own words or start crying myself.

"I don't know you, demon!" I snapped. What I had spoken was a half-truth and I knew it. While the part of me that was still Loren knew that I had to put as much distance between the Anathema and myself as possible, the part of me that was Alexander did not want to let her go.

_Why was I hurting her? _Even if she was a demon, what I'd said made me feel like a monster! Amira stared at me as if I'd run a sword through her heart. Immediately, I wanted to apologize. But before I could find the words I needed, she ran off into the dark.

I went back to camp and dutifully returned to bed. It was difficult to get back to sleep, and I woke several times in a state of extreme distress, the name "Amira" still on my lips. Once I thought I heard her crying, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Over the course of the next few days, my life returned to normal, or at least as normal as it ever would be again. I'd been serving under Mnemon Rai for years and had many close friends among the Winds. If I had wanted to, I could have easily pretend that Jaret was still at home, still infuriating Aunt Garel and making our father threaten to disown him. But I knew that was not the case.

He was dead.

I was dead too, or at least I knew I would be if my family ever discovered what had happened to me. The thought of that kept me on my toes, and I threw myself into my new responsibilities. My wounds healed perfectly, my dreams ceased for a time, and I began to ask myself if had I really changed. For certain, I could run a longer distance, jump further and I seemed to be breaking a large number of swords... but none of that was proof that I'd actually become a demon. The invisible mark on my brow was another matter entirely and my brief encounter with the woman from my dreams was even more difficult to forget.

Then, just as I had almost banished her from my thoughts, Amira returned. I was standing watch in the hours just before sunset when a little sparrow suddenly landed in the brush behind me. It followed me in a suspicious manner as I walked the perimeter of our camp and when I finally stopped at my assigned post, I noticed that its eyes were golden.

I blinked twice and when I could see clearly again, the little bird was gone and Amira was in its place. She did not stand, someone would certainly have seen her if she had dared to… but she did wink at me, obviously pleased that I had noticed her. She was wagging her tail back and forth like a dog.

"You again? What are you doing here?" I hissed, my voice no louder than a whisper.

"I came to see you." She replied.

"Why? I've already told you, I'm not who you think I am." I argued. She gave me a very painful look and I immediately wished that I could take back the words I'd just spoken. Observing the expression on my face, Amira grinned. Has she caught me in my lie?

"Go away!" I snapped, turning away from her. "I could sound the alarm right now! Have you killed!" I added.

"You won't." She retorted. As the perimeter guard turned, she seized the back of my cloak and forced me behind a stack of crates. I nearly retaliated, but then I felt her fingers tight on my throat and decided against any sudden movements. She was very strong and very skilled, that much was obvious. If I chose to fight her, there was a good chance I would not win.

"I know you better than you know yourself, Alexander." Amira informed me.

"You've obviously mistaken me for someone else. My name is Loren." I said. "_Cathak_ Loren." I gave the name of my House in the same arrogant tone of voice that my father often used.

"Whatever your name is, you're still _you_." She whispered. The sensation of her nimble fingers running from my throat up to my lips made it exceptionally difficult for me to resist kissing her. "I've missed you _so_ much!" She whispered in my ear. I almost lost the ability to stand at that moment, and nearly tripping over my own feet brought me crashing back down to reality.

"Stop it!" I protested, trying to convince myself that what I felt for the demoness was the product of horrible sorcery. I'd never been so weak in the presence of any woman, let alone one that I suspected might kill me!

Of course, I'd never desired any woman as I desired Amira. In my waking life, I'd never had a very serious relationship, but in my dreams I was reliving a centuries-long love affair that made even the most legendary romances seem small and insignificant by comparison.

"Denial's a dangerous thing, Alexander, _especially_ for one of us." Releasing me, Amira slipped a thick bracelet off of her wrist and it unfolded into a silver rod about five inches long. "Does this look familiar? Oh, I bet you remember! _This_ is my stupid stick. It's a kinder, gentler way of reminding someone that they're being stupid, stupid, stupid!" Each time she spoke that word she slapped the stick against her palm and it doubled in size until it was the length of a fighting staff.

"I don't give a damn about your stupid… stupid stick!" I protested, not wanting to admit that I _knew_ I'd seen that weapon before and was already anticipating that she was about to hit me with it. "I am _not_ Alexander! I'm nothing like you!"

Much faster than I had anticipated, Amira whapped me soundly across the back of the head with her stick. "Stupid!"

"Ow!" I protested. I wasn't injured, but my brains were a little rattled.

"Well, that made me feel better!" She replied with a mischievous smirk. "Although you are _technically_ right… we've always been complete opposites! But that's why we balance, you understand? That's why we're perfect Mates."

That was it, the word I wanted. It meant more than "lover" or even "wife".

I didn't realize how close the two of us had come once again until Amira reached out and put her hand on my cheek, her trembling fingertips tracing the line of my jaw and coming to rest again on my lips. Again, I found myself wanting to kiss her, to fall completely into the darkness that surrounded her. Her eyes burned like warm candlelight and I did not doubt that succumbing to her advances would be an experience well worth going to hell for. That is... if I were willing to accept damnation.

"Don't touch me, Anathema!" I snapped.

"Feh! You're just mad because I interrupted your sulk!" Amira slinked around behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "What if I make it up to you?" She teased seductively. The most skilled courtesan in the Imperial City could not have done it better. I very nearly dropped my guard _again_.

I took her wrists and forced her off of me, shoving her towards the trees.

"Damnit, Amira!" I shouted before I could stop myself. It occurred to me that she had never actually _said _her name and by speaking it I'd just proven her beloved "Alexander" _was_ inside my head. There would be no living with her now.

"Ahah!" Amira exclaimed, pointing at me and bouncing up and down with glee. "_Liar_!"

"Sir?" A young soldier inquired, turning the corner. "Are you quite all right?"

"It's nothing." I replied quickly, hoping that Amira had the sense to flee. Though I did not trust her, I could not turn her over to Mnemon Rai who would certainly kill her without hesitation. Amira was powerfully beautiful. It would have been an unbearable thing to see such perfect skin torn and covered in blood and those mesmerizing golden eyes without the light of life in them. I remembered that she had nearly died in my arms once before, and I felt compelled to protect her. Or no... all of that had happened to Alexander! Why couldn't I tell the difference between his memories and my own?

"Continue with your patrol!" I ordered. The young soldier nodded and went on his way.

When I turned back to where she had been, Amira had vanished without a trace.

I slept well that night, undisturbed by dreams of the past. It had been very cold in my tent for some weeks, but when I woke in the morning I felt as warm as I would have been next to a fire at home. There were traces of silver hairs on my blanket and I noticed several canine footprints leading off towards the river. Even after I'd cursed at her and pushed her away twice, Amira had secretly curled up at the foot of my cot. Clearly, she was incorrigible.

A single red rose lay next to my sword. I smiled slightly despite myself.

It was very difficult not to be swept into Alexander's love for Amira, especially when she tormented and teased me. It was not only a physical attraction either, although that was the part I found most distracting. I could scarcely keep my mind on affairs of the present, as much as I desired to see her again. I decided I would try to kiss her once before I departed for home, just to see if the taste of her lips was as sweet as I remembered it, like the very first peach of summer.

But she never returned.

Five days after Amira's second visit, my ship arrived and I set sail for the Blessed Isle. I expected that Amira would make an appearance until we were miles out on the open sea. I couldn't decide if I wanted her to stop me or not.

At the same time that I knew I was fulfilling my duty to my family, I also feared that I was running away from something _much_ bigger and infinitely more important than the affairs of House Cathak. For lack of a better way to put it, I smelled a touch of destiny in the air.


	4. Chapter 3 - Art and Warfare

**Chapter 3 -Art and Warfare**

After Jaret's funeral, I hoped to be sent back to Mnemon Rai immediately, but my Aunt Garel fell ill and decided that I should care for her. What was originally a delay of some months lengthened into nearly ten years as my aunt recovered and worsened more times than I could count. I often wondered if I would be sitting at her bedside helping her page through old books for the rest of my insignificant life.

Though he understood familial duties as well as any Dynast, Mnemon Rai was unwilling to count me as a permanent loss. He found work for me to do on the Blessed Isle, the sort that he personally detested. I became his political liaison in certain circles, helping him to recruit and train young officers with skill and potential. While many Dragonblooded scoffed at being asked to deal with a mere mortal on equal terms, very few were willing to provoke Mnemon Rai… or my father, for that matter.

My father was very pleased to have me assume the duties of managing our House so that he could focus on his Scarlet Legion and my stepmother could continue to dabble in politics as she preferred to. I became the master of all the servants, in charge of the monthly expenses, and the disciplinarian of the children. Of course, all of that was in addition to fulfilling my role as Mnemon Rai's chief secretary.

I applied myself diligently. Since I was not a "Prince of the Earth", I was so far beneath notice that no one, not even the members of my own family seemed to remember what _year_ I had been born in. Of course, that was to my benefit… it kept them from asking why I had not aged noticeably since Jaret's death.

One might wonder how was I able to avoid being detected for so long. For the most part, it was very easy not to show the world something I did not want to believe in myself. I was able to avoid particularly tense situations because I was not a Dragonblood. My House never needed me for anything overtly political, and the Exaltation of my young cousin Teric gave my father someone else to train as his heir.

At first, I simply filled my schedule with perpetuating domestic harmony and sifting through mountains of paperwork for my commander, but it was not long before those simple tasks left me feeling bored, anxious and irritable. I took up playing Gateway, a popular game in the Imperial City and saw in it an outlet for my burning desire to think strategically. Most famously, I beat Ledaal Kes in a match which left him sore and fuming for several months. How could a mere mortal have bested him at a game which he considered himself to be the unparalleled champion of?

Now I suspect he probably knows.

Following my Aunt Garel's death, I began to read my way through her entire voluminous library. As my knowledge increased, I augmented the usual training regime of would-be Winds. Impressed with the quality of the recruits I regularly turned out, numerous officers from other Legions requested that I come to drill their soldiers.

I took on as many styles of martial arts as I could fit into my already complicated schedule, begging lessons from the most exclusive and demanding instructors at Paisap's Stair. After effortlessly whipping two impatient young Dragonblooded in a demonstration match, I realized that if I did not want to draw unwanted attention to myself, I would have to start being very careful.

I asked my father if I could have the use of his old hunting lodge, located on a lake some miles north of the Imperial City. I told him that I wished to meditate and could not do so at home. Smiling slightly, he called me by my old nickname, "Little Monk", and told me to go "refresh my spirit", provided that I promised to return before the entirety of our House fell into chaos. With forty-three relatives and all of their respective servants living virtually on top of one another within the confines of those walls, I knew that I had less than a week.

Still, my first trip to my father's hunting lodge went far better than I'd ever hoped it might. In that place of solitude, I found that I was able to train as I preferred to, _brutally_. I was no longer compelled to intentionally miss the target when I shot my bow, or to feign exhaustion when I had only just begun to run. There was no one to tell me what I could not do or what I should not be capable of. I was my own master.

Practising my sword forms in my father's rock garden with only the rhythmic sound of the water clock to pass the time, I was more at peace than I had been in all the years since my brother's death. Training hard enough to sweat was the only thing that quieted my thoughts, my real meditation. The frightening thing was, the more I trained, the more quickly I exceeded all the limitations that I'd ever believed I had.

Roach, who was still technically my "student" became increasingly annoyed with me as my private retreats became more frequent than his lessons. He chafed at being left alone in the hostile quarters of House Cathak where he was treated as a sort of unwelcome pet. I trusted Roach more than I trusted most of my relatives, but every time I considered telling him my secret, a sick feeling welled up in my gut and I remembered my brother running his blade through me.

It became so that I spent the first week of every month at Paisap's Stair scouting for Mnemon Rai, the two middling weeks running my father's household and last week alone up at the lake.

When I was certain that no one was following me to my retreat, I began to attempt exercises far more daring than cleaving down rattan targets while blindfolded. Though I still somewhat believed that I was damned, any student of martial arts knows that only a fool carries a weapon he cannot wield. A dagger that a man cannot properly use is all too quickly turned against him... and how much worse would it be for me if I could not control the enormous power that I possessed?

I decided to experiment with my Essence. I had my dreams for guidance and I had secretly listened in on many lectures given by Ledaal Tsumi, a well-known master of the Water Dragon style. Once I understood that Essence could not only burn, it could flow… I instinctively understood how to improve my training.

The results of my first few ignorant attempts left me questioning if there could be something wrong with the world I lived in, if people were mistaken about the power wielded by the Anathema. I had always been told that it was demon-born, dark and uncontrollable… but to me it felt very different, as pure as a sutra on the lips of a saint.

I discovered that I could jump huge distances and I found myself a mountaintop perch on the far eastern side of the lake. I began going there every morning before dawn. If the God of the Sun knew that I was waiting to hear from him, he gave no sign of it. My meditations did not help me to find the answers to any of my questions either, but the transcendent beauty of that place left me compelled to return. I sought inside myself the stillness of the lake, and let my ancient dreams take me away.

On the tenth anniversary of Jaret's death, I emerged from my morning meditations shaking so badly that I could barely stand. It was still very early and there was a heaviness in the air that made me expect rain. As fast as I could, I made my way down the mountain and through the woods to the back door of my father's hunting lodge. I splashed my face several times with the green water from the rain barrel near the door and then stumbled into the dark kitchen like a drunkard, not bothering to light a lamp. I didn't need one.

Because I had used it so freely, the Essence all around me was flaring bright as day. Brighter, given the clouds gathering overhead. As the sun had cleared the mountains on the horizon line and pierced the morning fog, one of my pressing questions had been finally been answered. I knew what had happened to my past self.

I had always known that the Dragonblooded had once served the Anathema. Their revolt against tyranny was the very cornerstone that the Realm was built upon. But nothing could have prepared me for the experience of witnessing that rebellion from the opposing side, the horror I felt in seeing my friends killed and my home burning to the ground. What the Dragonblooded had done was far worse than salting the earth… it was absolute _desecration_, akin to painting a temple with blood.

The Realm _had __to_ call us demons! They had to turn people against us while we were still weak, and kill us all before we regained the strength that we had once possessed! For many centuries, it had been their greatest fear that we would return… and that _we_ would remember! And what hope did the "Princes of the Earth" have against the rightful Lords of all Creation?

The sickness that welled up inside of me, knowing that the beautiful world I had seen in my dreams had been destroyed by the heroes of my childhood was too much to bear. I wanted nothing more than to run to the nearest Immaculate Monastery and tear everything off of the walls! Was everything that I had ever believed nothing more than a pack of lies?

"Hello?" A familiar voice wondered. "Cousin? Loren? You in there?"

I froze. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my cousin Teric and friend of his standing in the doorway of the hunting lodge. They were carrying their bows and enough supplies for a weekend trip.

"Hunh. Guess he must be out." Teric observed, stepping inside.

"Your cousin lives up here all alone?" His friend inquired. She was clearly a Wood-Aspect with a nose that made me suspect House Sesus.

"On and off. He used to be a soldier, but he lost his nerve after his brother was killed. Now he runs our servants around and spends the rest of his time hiding from the world. Uncle Chiron basically gave him this house." Teric explained. "Which is a bit stupid, because you know… _I_ asked for it first. And Uncle told _me _'no'."

I'd never guessed that Teric had been so interested in my father's lodge and was secretly pleased that my father had withheld it from him. "Loren's useless! He's just a mortal… he'll be dead in twenty years! I don't know why everybody is so soft on him!" Teric snorted.

"I think it's because he's _nice_. And you know, _you're_ a jerk." The girl teased, elbowing Teric.

"Look at all of these broken swords! What has he been doing?" She approached the table, observing my stack of books. "Advanced Military Engineering? Famous Generals of the Early Shogunate? That's some light reading, eh? Who does he think he is, _Cathak_ himself?"

Teric didn't reply. He was staring directly at me, as if he could see through the walls to the spot where I hid. I flattened myself against the door and prayed that he hadn't used a Charm to detect my presence, though it was obvious that he'd noticed something. "Shh!" He hissed. "Someone's in the house!"

"Your cousin? The one who lives here?" The girl suggested, elbowing Teric playfully.

"No, it can't be! Whoever it is, they've been burning Essence. _A __lot_ of it." Teric paused, sounding very apprehensive. He paused momentarily. "Kira, your necklace is glowing."

"Hunh? Oh, so it is!" She observed, holding up the little piece of golden stone. "That's weird, it's never done that before. I guess it actually... works." She suddenly gasped. "Teric! This is bad!"

"What does it do?" Teric wondered uneasily.

"My grandmother says that it _detects _Anathema." Kira replied.

"_Anathema_?" Teric blinked in disbelief.

I didn't need to hear that word twice. I bolted out the back entrance, accidentally throwing the door off of its hinges as I fled. The sickness I had felt only moments before evaporated like dew and I became a hunted animal, as certain of my evil nature as I had been of my innocence.

_ Anathema. __Monster._

I could hear Teric and Kira following after me, but they were far enough behind that I was sure they couldn't see anything more than a golden light blazing through the forest. An arrow laced with fire came within inches of my shoulder as I raced towards the river gorge. Without hesitation, I leapt the waterfall in a single bound and kept running.

Teric and Kira skidded to a stop on the edge of the cliff.

"Did you see that? That… that _was_ a demon! A real demon, _here_ on the Blessed Isle! I… I've got to warn my uncle!" Teric stammered.

"What about your cousin?" Kira demanded.

"Forget him, he's probably dead!" The last thing I heard from Teric was a string of unintelligible curse words. When I was sure that I was no longer being followed, I sat down and attempted to compose myself until I stopped burning like a bonfire.

It took me several hours to muster up enough courage to return to the Imperial City. The sun had nearly gone down and I was no longer glowing when I arrived, but I still felt that I was very close to revealing my terrible secret and feared that someone would sense all the Essence I had used in my escape, just as Teric had. I had never heard of a stone that could _detect _Anathema before, but it made sense that if such a thing existed, someone from House Sesus would know about it. So many of their children went to study sorcery at the Heptagram in lieu of military school. My father did not trust sorcerers, and even being an "Anathema" myself, I was still inclined to believe that most people who invested so much in something so capricious were up to no good.

I tried to head directly for the port where I might find a ship to steal away on, hoping not to see anyone I knew and not really caring where I found myself, so long as it was as far from my home as possible. I almost jumped out of my skin as I passed Roach and some of the Winds drinking at the local tavern.

"Boss!" Roach exclaimed. The men jumped to their feet and saluted. Though I hadn't left the Imperial City in years, Mnemon Rai had long since named me to Fanglord and I officially commanded all the Winds who were on the Blessed Isle, regardless of whether they were serving in an administrative capacity, on leave, or in training. Though I preferred not to lord my status over anyone, I was one promotion short of Talonlord, the highest rank a mortal could hold.

No one seemed surprised to see me dressed simply in my monkish training clothes and not my official lamellar armor.

"C'mon, drink with us!" One of the soldiers gestured to an empty chair. "We were just talking about Chiarascuro. You've been there, haven't you, sir? You know all about the hungry ghosts and the salt lines I bet."

I nodded. Roach grinned proudly. I could tell he'd been sharing stories of our great "adventures" again. He was a substantial part of the reason that my reputation was as overblown as it was.

"Well, we just got back. Hot as hell there this time of year. Killed ourselves another Anathema. This one was a big ol' bull, one of the Frenzied with half an army of crazy cultists! They must have known they couldn't win, but they charged us anyway. Cut through the rest quick enough, but the Anathema was unstoppable! Now it may be heresy to say so, but it was _amazing_, like nothin' I'd ever seen! Old Thunderstormer put em' down." The soldier grinned broadly. "Good fight. You should've been there."

I forced a weak smile.

"Anyway, take a look at this! Found it out in the desert." He pulled something wrapped in a handkerchief out of his satchel and held it up for my examination. It was a golden ball the size of my fist.

"It's orichalcum." He informed me. "It looks like gold, but it's heavier than lead and harder than steel. The Anathema used to make _everything_ out of it, but the only place you'll see it around here is The Heptagram."

His companion snorted with distaste.

"Go on, sir! Have a look!" He rolled the ball across the table in my direction. I picked it up effortlessly with one hand and the men blinked in surprise. I realized belatedly that it was probably very heavy but did not bother to wince. Most of the soldiers in the Winds already thought that I was ridiculously strong.

Of course, they had _no_ idea.

I slowly ran my fingers across the nearly invisible designs etched into the smooth surface of the ball. Though I had never touched such a thing in my present life, the way the metal responded to my touch was unmistakable. It _was_ orichalcum!

"You picked up some Anathema junk?" Roach raised an eyebrow at the soldier. "You do realize that you shouldn't do that, right?"

"It's just a hunk of metal." The soldier responded.

"Old Thunderstormer won't like it." Roach informed him.

I said nothing. Still feeling the effects of my long meditation, I recognized that I was actually holding a physical object that had survived from the long-ago First Age, the days of the Solar Deliberative. The word "Anathema" did not even occur to me. It rang unusually harsh and false on my ears as Roach spoke it. I was lost in the past, staring at that relic of a world gone from memory. I unthinkingly fueled the ball with some Essence and smiled slightly as it responded. It started to feel warm and light in my grasp, less like a cannonball and more like a child's plaything.

In a sputter of golden light, the ball unfolded into a delicate little flying contraption. It looked like an insect, and it hovered for a moment just above my head, evaluating me with interest.

"Whoa!" Roach exclaimed. A familiar sensation made me worry that I had revealed myself, but even if the mark on my brow was almost visible, the bug that I'd awakened was impossible to ignore. Golden Essence bled from the creature as it shot into a violent upward spiral. The men who'd brought the thing were as surprised as I was and they immediately dropped to the ground. Roach drew his sword.

When the bug had gone up about a hundred feet, it froze in midair and then suddenly dropped, zooming across our table like an out-of-control firework. All of our drinks shattered, and a waitress shrieked in terror as the thing shot in her direction. I decided to stop it and leapt in front of the poor girl, but what I hadn't anticipated was the speed at which the bug was flying. It took me straight into the wall and then exploded in my face. The force was enough to stun me, which meant that it might have_ killed _someone else.

The soldiers all gathered around me and stared in disbelief.

"_This_." I slowly rose to my feet and dropped the burnt-out core of the bug in front of the man who'd first thrown it to me. It hit the table with a heavy clunk. "Is _exactly _why you _don't_ bring home souvenirs!"

"I'm sorry. Very sorry, sir. It'll never happen again, sir!" He looked embarrassed and bowed more than once.

I excused myself. Though I'd been in a hurry to escape the Blessed Isle a few hours ago, I'd decided that I couldn't go anywhere in my current condition. At very least, I needed to wash the soot off my face and change my clothes.

I didn't stop walking until I made it home, slipped through the gates of Aunt Garel's neglected garden and collapsed into the soft grass near the koi pond. A shower of cherry blossoms brought me back, not to the familiar days of my childhood, but to an afternoon many centuries ago when Amira and I had danced together.

The lines between my dreams and my reality were blurring. I was beginning to _think_ like a demon, to do things that would prove what I was without even considering the consequences! And I knew with sick certainty that it was only a matter of time before I would be detected.

Some hours later, I returned to the main house. The first thing I learned was that a letter had arrived for me. My father was reading it when I stepped into his library, a very grave expression on his face. I knew that I had beaten my cousin and his friend back to the city but I still expected them to come charging in at any moment with their tale of my disappearance and the terrible Anathema they'd stumbled upon.

"Loren? I didn't expect to see you for another two days." He observed.

"I left early this morning. There's a thief poking around your hunting lodge." I paused. "Things have disappeared. At first I thought it was animals, stealing food… but then some of my clothes went missing off of the laundry line. I thought you should know." The lie was surprisingly easy to swallow. When my cousin and his friend returned, their story would corroborate my own. Though I hated deceiving my father, I was not in a hurry to be hunted down and executed.

"Heh. Taught the villain a lesson, I hope." He replied.

"I haven't caught him yet." I sighed, doing my best to sound defeated.

"Well, perhaps your cousin Teric will have better luck. He's gone hunting for a few days. I don't know how you missed him on the road." My father nodded.

"I've no idea. Maybe he passed me when I stopped to rest?" I suggested. "So what is this letter about?" I wondered.

"Well, I wasn't going to disturb your meditation with it, but I suppose you have a right to know. Rai Jin thinks he's tracked down the fae that killed Jaret. The spider woman you described. He wants you to board the first available ship for The Scavenger Lands."

"The Winglord has asked for me personally? To come hunt her down? I'd be very glad to do that." I paused, knowing that things were certainly more complicated than my father was making them sound.

"Well, apparently he's also had some trouble with Sesus Calil that he wants you to settle." My father admitted. Of course, he wouldn't forbid me from taking revenge on the monsters that had murdered my brother, but I could tell from the expression on his face that he would prefer it if I continued working for Mnemon Rai in a bureaucratic capacity.

"I'm no one. Why should I get between two Princes of the Earth?" I demanded.

"Because we both know, Loren… that the _only _thing those two men have in common is a peculiar respect for _you_. Somehow you have the most decorated demon-hunter in the Realm wrapped around your little finger! Rai Jin has written me a dozen letters demanding that you be returned to the field as soon as possible because without _you_… he thinks his entire Wing will rise up and trample him!" My father laughed. "Hesiesh as my witness, I shudder to think of what you might have been, were you only better bred!"

It was meant to be a compliment, and so I decided to take it as such.

"I suppose I'll be going then." I decided.

My father smiled slightly. "I've already taken the liberty of packing your things."

Several hours after I'd received the letter from Mnemon Rai, Roach staggered into my room, drunk and grinning like a madman. He'd been complaining about provincial soldiering for years, arguing that nothing worthwhile ever happened so close to the Imperial City. All things considered, I was beginning to agree with him.

With my father's help, I sent out orders to every member of the Winds currently stationed on the Blessed Isle. I almost lost my wits when my cousin Teric returned home with news of the Anathema he'd seen, but my father didn't take him seriously at all. He simply informed Teric that if he _had _seen a real demon, it would _not_ have run away from _him_... and Teric meekly returned to work.

Less than two weeks later, five-hundred and fifty soldiers met me on the docks as I prepared to depart for Nexus myself.

According to Mnemon Rai, the Winds had split into two Talons, one under his command and the other under the command of Sesus Calil. Talonlord Calil had recruited most of the higher-ranking Dragonblooded officers to his side, promising them better pay and quicker promotions. Of course, Mnemon Rai had retained nearly all of his enlisted men, particularly the veterans of many years and the newest recruits I'd sent his way. Desperate to reunify The Winds, Mnemon Rai planned to send me as an emissary to Calil's camp. In addition, he promised me a promotion that I'd never dared imagine. Talonlord Calil would retain his position if he could be persuaded to rejoin the Winds, but from the moment I landed in Nexus, I would be acting as Mnemon Rai's first officer.

Roach and I arrived with a full Talon of soldiers, a thing which made me feel deserving of the new insignia on my uniform. In an impossibly short time, I'd pulled together men and women from every corner of the Blessed Isle, commandeered ships, and acquired supplies. I wasn't going to admit to Mnemon Rai how I'd actually accomplished such a feat, but I had a feeling that he'd appreciate the results I'd produced, if not my methods.

Over the course of my secret training, I'd discovered that the Essence I possessed could be used for much more than simply making light or augmenting my martial skills. A small, subtle application of power could also make ordinary words extraordinarily intimidating or convince people to work quickly and efficiently. The former was particularly useful on stubborn Dragonbloods, the latter on everyone else.

Our soldiers camped outside the city while Roach and I were received again by my cousin Lao, the same relative whose mining enterprises had been destroyed by the fae at the time of Jaret's death. Though himself Exalted, Lao had never cared for the usual duties of a Dynast, military or politics, and had spent the better part of his hundred and forty years building up various investments which funneled a great deal of money into the coffers of House Cathak. He lived quite sumptuously in a residence on Sentinel Hill and provided Roach and myself with everything we needed to embark upon the next leg of our journey.

Since time was short, Roach and I would not stay in Nexus for long, but before we rode out to join Mnemon Rai, I needed to "recover" from our long sea voyage. Most of our soldiers were glad to have a few days rest as well. Some of the younger ones had been seasick since we left the Imperial City. I'd also discovered that feigning "mortal weakness" myself was the best way to hide the fact that I'd burned a significant amount of Essence speeding our arrival, securing our provisions, and ensuring that we didn't run into any snares with the local authorities. Even Lao grudgingly admitted that he'd heard good things about me.

During my first visit to Nexus, I'd been serving as Jaret's keeper, and my second visit had been darkened by the circumstances of his death. Seeing the city again felt like visiting it for the first time, and I found it exceptionally exciting. Unlike the Imperial City, where Dragonblooded were always given special treatment, Nexus was a cornucopia of Exalts and God-bloods, restless spirits, and fae-tainted wanderers. A dozen tiny, pale Djala, two Haltans with exotic birds perched on their shoulders, and one particularly big, dark-skinned Southerner caught my eye as I watched the teeming crowds of the Big Market.

In that vast sea of humanity, was it possible that _someone _carried the same secret that I did? My first suspect was a Djala acrobat who was performing a fine balancing routine on a slack rope. But then again, what about that huge Southerner who was leading a string of cattle towards the Brood Market? On the street corner across from him was a well-dressed merchant with the frosty complexion and blue hair that one would normally associate with an Air-Aspect Exalt. In the past I had been mistaken for a Fire-Aspect myself. Perhaps none of them were what they seemed to be? Roach took in the scenery as I did, though he could not have known what thoughts were whirling through my head.

Not knowing what possessed me to walk in the direction I chose, I led the way towards Glassmaker's Alley. Roach followed close behind me. There was a crowd gathering on the street between two bridges and I was curious to see what they were staring at. If any of the local mercenaries had looked closely enough to see that I was dressed in Imperial lamellar, they probably would have given me a headache… but fortunately, whatever it was that had "appeared" at the end of Glassmaker's Alley seemed to have the undivided attention of the neighborhood.

"Excuse me, sir!" I tapped on the shoulder of the man nearest to me, a fat old merchant who jumped with a start. "What's going on up ahead?"

"You haven't seen?" He wondered incredulously.

"Obviously not. That's why I'm asking." I replied.

"It's a miracle, that's what it is! The Immaculates are blaming it all on us but I will tell you, I've been a member of the Glassmaker's Guild for twenty years and there is not one artisan in all of Nexus who could have done such a thing! It is the work of a great God!" He whispered, a note of awe in his voice.

"Which God?" Roach wondered.

The merchant did not respond. The expression on his face suggested that he wasn't sure, but didn't wish to plead ignorance. I glanced at Roach.

"I don't know if we should get into the middle of this, Boss." He admitted, watching over his shoulder nervously. A shouting match had started between one of the Immaculate monks and a big, bearded man who looked like a local troublemaker. People were gathering all around them. Obviously, there would be a riot if someone didn't separate the two firebrands.

Of course, that was when I felt it. Like so many times before, there was something in the air that I found impossible to ignore, my siren song. I stepped forward, pulling my cloak aside to reveal my new insignia. Though parading about as a Realm officer was not advisable in Nexus, the local mercenaries would not attack me while they were in spitting distance of the Immaculate monks. More importantly, playing the role of a Dynast gave me the leverage I needed to convince the monks to step away from craftsman. Talonlord was no mean rank, and it helped that I would probably pass for a Fire Aspect if no one got a very good look at me.

I decided I would casually drop Mnemon Rai's name to get their attention and if necessary… I could give them a bit of a stronger "suggestion". Though I knew that I needed to be careful, I wasn't going to step down until _someone _started acting reasonably.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me?" I said in a very loud voice.

Roach stared at me as if he thought I'd lost my mind.

The two monks closest to me turned, seeming surprised that I dared interrupt them. The more I dealt with ordinary Immaculates as opposed to the isolated Order of Mela, the more I became convinced that most of them were not devout at all, but self-righteous hypocrites who used their status to lord over everyone.

"Forgive my intrusion. My name is Cathak Loren. I'm an officer in the Ravenous Winds under Winglord Mnemon Rai Jin who is a close personal friend of your Emissary. I could not help but notice that everyone on this street appears quite distressed. What seems to be the trouble?"

"These _mortals _are revolting! They're spouting all sorts of heresy!" The leader of the monks snapped. He was a Fire Aspect, and quite a bit older than I'd suspected. Watching him spew curses at the craftsman, I'd initially appraised him as a young hothead. Clearly, he'd held his position of authority long enough that he wouldn't hesitate to abuse it.

I wanted to take him down a notch very much.

As I had feared months before leaving the Blessed Isle, the "demon" inside of me had grown very strong. There was no longer a definitive line between the two of us. As a child, I had been much more Alexander-like, but when I'd failed to Exalt, I'd gotten used to taking "no" for an answer. Some of the fire that had driven me had smoldered and gone out. I hadn't even known what I was missing until it sparked again and began burning like never before. As I'd assembled my soldiers on the Blessed Isle, I'd come to I realize that if I'd always possessed such power and never once dreamt of the First Age, I would have grown into a man _exactly_ like Alexander. The only real difference between us was that my past self was not afraid to flare the mark on his brow.

"Heresy? That's quite the serious accusation... if this were the Imperial City. But to my knowledge, there are only three laws enforced in Nexus, and you monks are breaking one of them by blocking off this street." I replied calmly. "Now will you kindly show me the nature of this problem before someone files a formal complaint with the Guild?"

The monks looked somber and considered what I had said. The crowd parted without a word and I stared in awe.

It was a magnificent fountain. Crafted from white marble, blue jade, and orichalcum, the fountain resembled a rising sun with rays that became hands as they reached down into the water. The design was geometrical and very clearly influenced by the marvels of the First Age. But more than that, it was _functional_! As the filthy muck of the canal entered into the heart of the machine, it was purged of all of its impurities. If I had been amazed by the little orichalcum ball that Roach's friends had brought back to the Blessed Isle, I was awed then.

The water I tasted in the jade-tiled pool beneath the fountain was cooled to the temperature of a high mountain spring. In a word, it was _heavenly._

"I fail to see what your problem is. This water is clean." I replied, turning to the monks. "Would you prefer to drink from the river?" I didn't say anything about corpses floating down the Yanaze, although I had heard that mercenaries always checked the sandbar south of Glassmaker's Alley if they were looking for someone who might have been murdered.

A child of one of the artisans slipped behind the leader of the monks. He knelt down beside the fountain, cupped his hands, and stole a quick drink before disappearing back into the crowd. Having been born into a life of privilege, it touched my heart to know that the clean water from the miraculous fountain was probably the first he had tasted in his young life.

The monks stared at me incredulously. "Don't you understand? This monstrosity glorifies the Anathema! Everyone who drinks from it will…" One of them began.

"_Not_ get sick?" I cut him off. "You monks ought to know how plague affects these poor neighborhoods! Someone obviously went through a lot of trouble to build this fountain. Frankly, I'm amazed that they didn't demand a king's ransom to do it. It's a very generous gift."

"Look!" The leader of the monks seized me by my arm and drug me around to the side of the fountain where a message was carved into the marble in elegant Old Realm. I pretended not to be able to read it. Of course, my dreams had given me a near perfect comprehension of the ancient speech, but most soldiers did not know the language of the Gods.

The monk did not wait for me to ask what it said. "Now do you see? It glorifies the golden demon that the beasts serve. It was made by one of the Unclean!"

He pointed to the unmistakable symbol of the Twilight Caste, the legendary sorcerers and artisans of the First Age. I was not surprised. I knew that the Twilight Caste's skill in crafting was absolutely unparalleled, the source of so many of the wonders I remembered from my previous life.

The words carved in the pristine marble sent a shiver coursing down my spine.

_"You __see __many __stars __at __night __in __the __sky __but __find __them __not __when __the __sun __rises; __can __you __say __that __there __are __no __stars __in __the __heaven __of __day?__So,__O __man!__Because __you __behold __not __God __in __the __days __of __your __ignorance, __say __not __that __there __is __no __God."_

"Scribbles." I frowned, forcing myself to sound stiff and annoyed. "There's ancient writing like this all over Nexus. No one actually reads it."

The monks did not respond. They seemed to be hesitating, which meant that I was winning the argument.

As a child I had been a great believer in Immaculate philosophy. Though everything that I had ever believed told me that I was now a demon, when I looked up at the sun I could feel the Essence churning in my veins, almost as if I were on the verge of boiling over. For a moment, I thought I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

As filthy, violent and corrupt as Nexus was, part of me remembered what it had once been, more than a thousand years ago.

_ Our __little __pastoral __paradise_, as Perfect might say.

I blinked in surprise. Though Amira was certainly the most important person in Alexander's life, she was not the only one I'd come to know. Often in my dreams, I'd found myself in the company of a woman called _Perfect __Mechanical __Soul_. From what I remembered of her, Perfect preferred to spend most of her time tinkering or with her nose in a book. A Twilight Caste sorceress and artificer, she was renowned for her machines which behaved like living creatures... and her spectacular waterworks.

"Boss?" Roach tugged on my cloak.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, not caring who heard.

I expected that Roach would snort and make some sort of snide comment as he usually did when something particularly ostentatious was shown to him, but he only smiled. "I've never seen anything like it." He replied honestly. "But we should really get out of here now."

The Immaculates were leaving Glassmaker's Alley with a fair amount of pushing and shoving through the crowd that had resumed its usual hectic bustle. Despite the fact that I was a Realm soldier, no one got in my way. Some people even smiled, and one merchant gave me a meat bun wrapped in paper. I passed it to Roach who cheerfully wolfed the thing down in one bite. He was always hungry, which made it easy to distract him. My mind, however, was still on the fountain.

I looked up at the sun again, only barely visible through the clouds of smoke and ash drifting across the river from the Nighthammer District.

"What do you want me to do?" I demanded, not realizing that I had spoken aloud. Roach gave me an odd look, but then another street vendor passed him something else to eat.

The sun gave no answer, but as my gaze drifted slowly back to the fountain, I began to realize that I had no need to ask such a question. It is somewhat sobering to realize that the task laid before you is nothing less than the transformation of the entire world.

We returned to our accommodations without incident. Dinner at Cousin Lao's was tolerable, better than camp food but nothing to write home about. I waited until everyone in the household was asleep and then stole out through a window.

At the time of Jaret's death, I'd been too numbed by everything that had happened to me to see Nexus clearly. If I had looked further ahead than the back of the man in front of me, I certainly would have recognized all the ruins that I now remembered so well.

While the world of my dreams had been destroyed centuries ago, a pale shadow of it still existed under the many layers of filth that made up modern Nexus. I wandered down the shadowy streets and went first to a bridge that I'd seen earlier in the day. I'd heard it called "The Bridge of Whispers" and everything about it felt intimately familiar to me. A few drunks and whores passed by, but none of them paused long enough to notice that I was reading the ancient inscription on the pedestal of a headless marble god.

_ "Given __this __7th __day __of __Ascending __Fire __to __the __People __of __Nexus __by __its __co-regents, __Alexander__ The __Faeslayer, __Exalted __of __the __Dawn __Caste __and __Perfect __Mechanical __Soul, __Exalted __of __the __Twilight __Caste. __Chief __Engineer __of __Roads, __Bridges, __Waterworks __and __Other __Improvements __for __the __Public __Good.__"_

I touched the name Alexander. It was scarcely legible, but in my mind's eye I could see it as it had appeared when it was newly carved. I'd imagined _nothing!_ Everything that I had dreamt had been real, but too long past for anyone to remember it!

The near riot I'd diffused earlier had convinced me that Nexus was in dire need of some law, the kind that I felt compelled to mete out. While I was still intent on finding a way to help Mnemon Rai, I decided that it would soothe my nerves and allow me to get some good sleep if I found a few scoundrels to admonish before the sun came up. I'd disguised myself fairly well and I doubted that anyone I knew would recognize me. By being a blatantly obvious target, I intended to draw out the snakes from their nests.

It did not take me long to find my first mark. A young woman, probably a whore, was standing on the bridge holding her flimsy cloak pulled tight to her chest. She was not altogether bad-looking if a bit too thin, and she had lovely dark hair was very long and braided down her back. She walked at a fair clip, her eyes fixed on the ground as if she thought that she was being followed.

She was_._

The man who pursued her was exactly the kind of scum I'd been hoping for. As he passed me where I stood, still intend on pursuing the girl… I put my foot out in his path to draw his attention. He did not stumble, but he stopped and stared at me.

"What do you want?" He demanded.

"I couldn't help but notice that you were following that young woman." I replied. "Bad form. That's no way to treat a lady."

"She's a whore, man. Are you her brother or something?" He demanded.

"No." I replied, smiling slightly. "Just a concerned citizen. If she is a whore as you say, then approach her in a straightforward manner and pay her properly. If she's not a whore or if she's refused your business already, you should be on your way home." I finished.

"You talk too much." The man brushed me off, clearly annoyed. His eyes still followed the woman.

I stopped his hand. "I'm afraid I must _insist_!"

That did it. The mugger took a great sloppy swing at my head and I turned his own momentum against him, throwing him into the dirt. Brushing off my hands, I decided that I had made my point and began to walk away. Though I hadn't seen a weapon on his person before, that was when he drew a dagger and thrust at me with it.

Evading that awkward maneuver was even easier than dodging his first punch had been. I drew my sword and our weapons clashed. I pushed him into the nearest wall and disarmed him effortlessly. As he scrambled to retrieve his dagger, I struck the brick near him as a warning, shattering my own blade to pieces from the sheer strength of my blow.

It was not the first time I had destroyed a sword in such a manner, so it did not surprise me. It did, however, surprise the mugger who fled without a backward glance. The girl had long since disappeared, but I still had the strong impression that I was being watched.

I looked up.

Above me stood a masked figure cloaked in white who could only have been the most infamous phantom in all of The Scavenger Lands, the Emissary himself! And what did this being, in reputation a terrible enforcer of justice, think of a stranger patrolling his streets? Nothing, it seemed. He gave no sign of displeasure at any rate. But he must have shown himself for some reason, as he could have certainly escaped my notice had he chosen to. The two of us stared at one another for what felt like a very long time. Then, when it must have been obvious that I did not intend to run away, the Emissary_ saluted_ me.

It was not the kind of salute that any soldier or officer of the Realm would use. I felt the blood freeze in my veins as I realized that most infamous man in Nexus had just shown me the same deference one would have accorded to a general of The Solar Deliberative. He_ knew_ that I was Alexander!

"Wait!" I shouted, chasing after him as he suddenly bounded away. Fast as I was, the Emissary was much faster. When I was sure that I'd lost him, I sat down for a long while and stared up at the night sky, my mind whirling. Was the Emissary a God? Was he Anathema himself? How did he know my secret?

Sighing in defeat, I went to fetch the shattered blade of my sword. I'd had my fill of adventure for one night, but before returning to bed, there was one more place I intended to visit. Without fighting my way across the daily hubbub of the Big Market, it did not take me very long to reach the fountain in Glassmaker's Alley. It was even more beautiful in the moonlight. I sat down and ran my fingers through the crystal clear water.

As enamored as I was of the fountain, at first I did not notice that I had company. An old woman sat on the street opposite of me. There was something about her that caught my attention immediately, and I knew without a doubt that she was no mere mortal, but a Goddess. Though little Gods were everywhere, the Immaculate Order disapproved of their usual meddling and so they tended not to show themselves when soldiers of the Realm were about.

"Oh, don't mind me." The Goddess remarked, flashing me a smile of very white teeth. Her eyes were iridescent green and carried a hint of mischief in them. "I'm just here to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" I echoed in confusion.

"Well, this lovely, lovely thing was lost for a very long time ago and I must admit, I grew rather fond of it. But now it's found again, and so that's that." She replied, running her gnarled fingers along the marble.

The strange way the old woman spoke seemed familiar to me, and though I did not know her name, I felt certain that we had met before.

"Do I know you?" I wondered.

"Do _you_ know _me_?" The Goddess cackled. "I should hope so, lost king of Nexus!"

I said nothing in response, though I did feel compelled to stand a little straighter, which was much the same as acknowledging what I had been called.

I'd met several little Gods since Jaret's death and it was not the first time that one of their number had called me something incriminating. Though anyone on the streets could have guessed that I was a soldier masquerading as a beggar, I'd learned that Gods perceived Essence as it naturally flowed, even when it wasn't visible to most eyes. I'd gotten used to them addressing me with all sorts of flowery sobriquets but "_King __of __Nexus_" was a new title, and I could not decide how to react to it. Of course, I'd seen the names inscribed on the Bridge of Whispers. Still, it was difficult to imagine that the impossibly beautiful city of my dreams had degenerated into one enormous slum. Then again, it _had_ been fifteen-hundred years.

"Oh, my, my! Look at you! So full of dreams of that lost age! Such a _treasure_ you are!" The Goddess smirked. "I'd love to take you just as you are now, put you in a box and keep you! Yes! But I won't do it! I won't! I'll just _think_ about doing it, about keeping you forever all quiet and safe. A lost king of a lost city, so lovely and lost! Oooh! It's almost too much, even for me!" She fanned herself dramatically.

"You're Madame Marthacine!" I exclaimed, realizing at once whom I was speaking with. Though paying too much attention to Gods outside of the Perfect Hierarchy was a minor blasphemy, there were some powers whose names were readily invoked, even in a Dynast's household.

Madame Marthacine was the Goddess of Lost Things. She was blamed for every piece of silk or silver that went missing and was commonly invoked by frustrated servants searching for that one precious earring that the mistress had lost while out in the garden. I had always considered her a minor sort of deity, but that was before I'd known how different the world had once been. Entire cities had vanished from the face of Creation, and those that remained, like Nexus, were unrecognizable. The glorious world of the First Age was completely buried and forgotten. As the sole keeper of such secrets, that made Madame Marthacine a powerful God indeed.

"I am." She bowed dramatically. Her advanced age was suddenly a superficial thing, as she stood straight as a young woman and moved closer to me with impossible grace. "So riddle me this, Lord Faeslayer. I was speaking with a friend of mine recently and of all the _most _unexpected things… _your__name_came up! Certainly strange to hear such a thing whispered by those who traffic in secrets, although it wasn't always. It has come to my attention that you will soon find my _greatest_lost treasure!"

"Shouldn't you be trying to stop me then?" I pressed, noting that Madame Marthacine had called me "Faeslayer". It was a name I heard very often in my dreams. Perfect always called me "Faeslayer". Was Madame Marthacine's "friend" Perfect? Was Perfect in Nexus as I already suspected? Could Perfect be the Emissary? I certainly couldn't discount the possibility.

Madame Marthacine laughed. "Oh my, my! You don't understand at all, do you? Nothing in Creation creates such _interest_ in things _lost_as one such thing miraculously _found!_" She replied. "I cannot tell you what it is that you should be looking for, nor where you should begin your search… but I eagerly anticipate your immanent "finding"!" Madame Marthacine paused. It seemed that there was something else she wished to say, but for some reason, she could not simply say it.

"I don't understand." I admitted.

"And I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you more, my lovely little lost king." She replied. "Think very hard and tread carefully! There are clues everywhere in this city... you've just got to put them all together. Trust _no__one_."

"Except for you?" I hazarded a guess.

"No, no, no!" The little God wagged a disapproving finger in my direction. "I'm only a little God! And I owe a _terrible_ amount of favors! If you don't want to end up lost on the bottom of the Yanaze River, you'd best not mention this conversation!" She advised.

"Well, thank you for your honesty, I suppose." I paused.

"Oh, my, my! How polite you are! I do so love that! I'll help you again if I can!" Madame Marthacine smirked mischievously, bowed, and then vanished as she had never been, a shadow melting in the moonlight.

I returned to my cousin's house but nothing could persuade me to sleep. I had seen far too many eyes watching me on my short trip back across town and I knew that they belonged, not to ordinary mortals but to hordes of little Gods. I paced back and forth for the better part of an hour considering everything that Madame Marthacine hadn't said. Why in all my years on the Blessed Isle had so few spirits troubled me, and now that I had returned to the Scavenger Lands, every street corner was teeming with them?

In the morning over breakfast, I learned that the horses we were waiting for had arrived. Roach packed our supplies and the two of us bid farewell to my cousin, joined our makeshift Talon outside of the city on the road heading east. We met Mnemon Rai at sunset and he was only too glad to see us.

A week passed in camp. I hadn't realized how badly I wanted to escape from behind a desk until I was in the field again. Mnemon Rai was amused by my eagerness to take on even the most monotonous of tasks and reminded me several times that as a Talonlord, I did not need to drag men out of bed, stand watch, or count supplies. Junior officers could take care of all of those tasks. The business with Calil that I had been summoned for still needed to be settled, and that was something only I could do.

We talked the matter over in a surprisingly candid manner. Though we had exchanged thousands of letters, I had not actually spoken to Mnemon Rai in a very long while. I was surprised at how our relationship had changed. He did not give me orders, he simply proposed ideas, and then actually asked me what I thought. All the while we spoke, he smiled.

"Thank the Dragons you're here, Cathak." He said, slapping me on the back.

It was very nice to be appreciated by Mnemon Rai, and I did not want to disappoint him. Our scouts reported that Sesus Calil was camped only about forty miles away. I would travel with just a single Scale, a diplomatic mission rather than a show of force. Though Calil liked me as much as he liked anyone, he would not be pleased to hear that I'd been promoted yet again and would probably loathe the fact that Roach was now _my _first officer. Mnemon Rai agreed that taking a humble stance was my best chance of winning Calil over, though he worried about the fae. I promised him I would turn back immediately if I saw any signs of Wyld in the forest.

For two days we headed East, and everything went well.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Though we'd seen no sign of the taint, the fae struck without warning in the middle of the night. The boy on watch raised the alarm just as he should have, but not quickly enough. I broke both of my swords in the fight and then realized that I had to stop burning Essence before I revealed myself. I wanted to do more... I knew that I _could_, but fear crippled me.

When the fae finally retreated, I'd lost half of my soldiers. I sat with my head buried in my hands for nearly an hour, utterly disgusted with myself. I could feel the mark on my brow beginning to flicker, and I knew that I'd stopped fighting with all my strength just as it was starting to become visible. If someone had seen, I might have been forced to hurt the very people I was trying to protect. Though I understood that stepping back was the only rational choice, it still felt wrong. I felt like a coward.

Keeping my promise to Mnemon Rai, I immediately sent a messenger back to The Winds on my horse. She'd been gone only two hours when a carrier pigeon landed on Roach with a message from Talonlord Calil.

Calil had been attacked by the fae himself and taken heavy losses. Though I had no help to bring him, it sounded as though he was probably closer than Mnemon Rai, and if he still had at least four-hundred men, he would certainly be able to spare someone with medical training to tend to my wounded.

Knowing Calil as well as I did, I knew that there was no point in sending him one of my green recruits. If I expected any help from him at all, I would have to talk to him myself.


	5. Chapter 4 - Alexander the Great

**Chapter 4 - Alexander The Great**

I'd first met Talonlord Calil many years ago. At the time, he'd been working with the Immaculate Order to put down a dangerous Murqai rebellion in the far south. Mnemon Rai had offered his assistance to Calil, expecting that an Anathema worthy of slaying might make an appearance. No demons showed themselves, but the fighting was hard and the weather was miserable. For a time, even I wanted nothing more than to quit the army and go home. Fortunately, after tracking down most of the Murqai leaders and capturing their stronghold, we began marching back towards civilization.

Scouting the road north from Chiarascuro, I discovered Roach unconscious in a ditch. Though Talonlord Calil was immediately suspicious of the boy, he couldn't find it in his heart to kill an innocent child whose only fault was having the misfortune to have been born into a tribe of heretics. Because I had learned to speak some Murqai myself, Roach immediately became "my problem".

I shared my rations with Roach for two weeks and by the time we reached civilization, he was determined to stay in my service. Since I'd taken an arrow for him in our first engagement, Talonlord Calil grudgingly agreed to my request. And since no one could pronounce the filthy child's proper name, everyone began calling him "The Little Cockroach" which was later shorted to "Little Roach" and then simply "Roach".

_ "You're __not __bad __for __a __Dragonblood." __Roach __confessed __to __me __as __we __shared __a __rabbit __I'd __shot __while __out __on __patrol._

_ I __had __to __laugh __when __he __said __that.__"I'm __not __a Dragonblood. My father is a Fire Aspect__,__ but my mother was a servant. __I __grew __up __as __part __of __House __Cathak, __but __I __never Exalted__." __I __replied._

_ Roach __seemed __confused.__"Why __not?" He asked innocently.  
><em>

_ "I __don't __know." __I __told __him. __He __must __have __realized __that __he'd __touched __on __a __sore __issue, __because __after __that __night, __he__ never asked me __again._

After our Scale was destroyed, it was decided that I should continue on to find Sesus Calil. Most of my soldiers had never met the Talonlord and the newest ones were almost as afraid of him as they were of the fae. Too many rumors had spread around Mnemon Rai's camp, making Calil sound like much more of a villain than he really was. Even Roach adamantly refused to let me go on alone. A very young Dragonblood who'd dislocated his shoulder volunteered to stay behind with our wounded.

We'd taken only a few horses when we left Mnemon Rai, and during the attack, the fae had killed most of them. Since I'd sacrificed my own mount to the messenger I'd sent to Mnemon Rai, Roach and I had to continue on foot. The two of us ran almost until dawn. Roach was bruised and a his right arm was torn up from fae claws. I was completely unscathed myself, although I had taken a blow from a fae warhammer which had shattered the back of my armor. Nervous as I was, I suspected if we ran into any real trouble, the sword I'd borrowed would not last long.

"Wait up, Boss!" Roach shouted. I stopped so that he could catch his breath. "Damn, how do you still run like you're twenty when you're twenty years older than me?" He demanded.

"I drink less than you do!" I teased.

Roach laughed. "So, if I was to become a monk like you, I'd be immortal and immune to everything? For that I may just repent my sins!"

"I'm not immune to everything!" I protested, trying to laugh. The fact that he'd called me immortal made me twitch. I was well aware of the suspicious glances that were cast in my direction. Claiming to live a healthy lifestyle had worked years ago, but it had been a long time since Jaret's death and everyone I'd enlisted with was beginning to look old.

Though my memories were still fuzzy when it came to such things, I'd heard plenty of stories about Anathema who'd lived for thousands of years, far longer than even the best-bred Dynasts of the Realm. What would I do when I could no longer be Cathak Loren? I didn't want to know.

"Heh. Right. I'll believe that when I witness something you're not immune to." He teased. "How's your back?"

"Fine." I replied. "It was just a glancing blow."

"How'd a glancing blow shattered your lamellar like that?" He demanded.

"Fae sorcery." I replied, as if that explained everything. It usually did.

Roach sighed heavily.

I surveyed the road ahead of us. "We must be very nearly there." I decided.

"Um… Boss?" Roach grimaced.

That was when we saw Talonlord Calil. Or... what was left of him. His head was lying in the middle of the road, a few feet away from his legs. Only one of his arms was still attached to his torso and his eyes had been gouged out of his skull. Though Calil had never been one of my favorite commanders, the end that he had met caused me to grit my teeth and tighten my grasp on the hilt of my sword.

I knew we were being watched.

"Come out!" I ordered the fae. "I know you're watching us! Come out, cowards!"

At first there was no response, and then out of the trees on the sides of the road a huge goblin emerged. The monster was over twelve feet tall and gray-skinned with enormous tusks jutting out from its lower jaw. I stared up at it and instinctively slipped into fighting stance.

I heard a muffled shout from behind me and drew my blade. In my moment of distraction, I saw that another fae had emerged from the forest behind me, a familiar white spider woman. She'd seized Roach and wrapped a layer of thick silk around his neck, reeling him towards her as if he were a fly she intended to eat. Though the fae change their shapes arbitrarily, I felt certain that she was the same faerie queen I'd faced ten years ago. Hordes of piglike goblins suddenly began appearing in the trees all around us. From the looks of things, we'd walked right into their nest.

"Let him go!" I ordered. The spider woman laughed. It was a very unsettling sound.

The enormous goblin grabbed my shoulder. "No." It said, in a voice that sounded like cart wheels rolling over gravel.

"I am _not_ asking! I am giving you an order!" I gritted my teeth, brushing the goblin's claws from me and focusing on the faerie queen who still held Roach. There are few things I hate more than _negotiating_ with fae, and seeing my friends in danger is one of them.

"You have no business giving us orders, mortal!" The goblin replied arrogantly.

"And you have no business being in Creation, monster!" I snapped.

The spider woman paused, rolling silk between her long fingers. "Have we met before?" She asked me in a soft voice, sounding like a highly trained courtesan.

"How should I know?" I replied curtly. "You fae changed your faces so often it's impossible to tell!"

"Ah, but these eyes of mine have _seen_ you!" She hissed, fixing two of her eyes on me. They were a familiar golden-brown color and seemed to have been recently stitched into place. The connection I drew at that moment made me feel even sicker. "What is your name, little soldier?" She demanded.

"You never asked for it when we first met." I replied. "But I believe you called me… _Tiger_."

"No! Impossible!" The spider woman gasped. She jumped as if she'd been struck by lightning and wrapped four of her eight limbs around her huge goblin, suddenly abandoning Roach. Roach struggled in his silken bonds, looking up towards me fearfully, as if he hoped that I would somehow save us both.

The goblin grunted and attempted to brush the spider off of his back, watching me with a toothy grin. "Mortal, I will grind your bones!" He sneered.

"Stop, Tusk!" The spider woman ordered. "This one is more than a match for you!" She leaned in to whisper something in his pointed ear. I knew what it was at once and felt all the strength drain out of me.

"Hohohoho!" The goblin laughed. "The Faeslayer? Surely you are mistaken, Duchess! This one is no Sword of Heaven! A _paper __tiger_ at best, not one forged of bronze! The Children of the Dawn are _big_ like Yurgen the Bull or that Demetheus fellow! I could crush both men with one fist."

Roach stared, still gagged with spider's silk. He knew what those sobriquets meant. How could he not? I made no attempt to deny what the fae had said, though I did not wish to hear such words repeated. _Sword __of __Heaven. __Bronze __Tiger. _It was what the Forsaken called themselves when they did not wish to be known as what they were.

Demons. _Anathema._

But I was a soldier, a good soldier! I'd always followed my orders! I'd protected people who could not protect themselves, done everything asked of me, and tried to be honorable and fair! I had not chosen to become one of the damned. Being changed in such a way was nothing I had asked for, nothing that I even understood! Not that it mattered. All of that was so far in the past, there was no use dwelling on it. I hadn't actually come to terms with my situation so much as I'd realized that regardless of how the world saw me, I was still the same man I had always been.

The fae obviously intended to kill us both, and if I hesitated, they would start with Roach. I could feel how near I was to my limit and I was well-aware that anything I did would be obvious and unmistakable. When the mark on my brow started to flicker, Roach would not be able to miss it.

And yet, how could I choose between my own safety and the life of my dearest friend?

There was no choice. I took a deep breath.

"It's been _so _long!" The spider woman hissed, a tremble in her voice. She had little interest in me until I began to act like a foe to be reckoned with, and then her desire was insatiable. It was an old, old hate that drove us. "Ah, but it pleases me that your kind have returned! I have grown tired of petty Dragonbloods… the way they breed, there are ever more of them to kill! But eyes such as yours, and dreams so fine and rare?" The spider woman inhaled deeply, as if savoring the bouquet of a fine wine. "It has been a _very_ long time since I have eaten the heart of a _Solar!_"

_ Solar._

The fae spoke that word as a Dragonblood might say "_Anathema"_, with loathing and reverence, as if she could think of no greater enemy to face. And if something so indisputably foul hated what I was so much, I had no choice but to believe in my own righteousness.

I stepped forward decisively. "You _will_ release my friend. And you will go far, far away from this place, all the way back to the Wyld where you belong." I replied coldly. "Or I swear I'll cleave off every last one of your arms and claim your head for a trophy!"

"What makes you think you can kill us?" The goblin sneered.

"Oh, I can kill you." I replied. In the past, I knew that I had slain Primordials. By comparison, taking out a faerie queen was not a very impressive feat... and killing a goblin was somewhat akin to swatting a fly.

Snorting like a boar, the goblin charged. I braced myself but did not move a single step. Though the fae must have expected to plow right over me, considering that he stood almost twice as tall as I did, I effortlessly swept underneath him and ran my blade through his gut. It immediately snapped in half but I still clenched the hilt. Using his momentum to my advantage, I heaved the goblin up over my head and hurled him ten feet down the road. My iron sword would have been enough to wound the fae, but laced with Essence as white-hot as the heart of the sun, it did far worse. His body exploded into flames like a torch dipped in pitch.

The spider woman shrieked and leapt into the trees. As brave-sounding as she had been only moments before, I was somewhat surprised to see her flee so quickly. Still, I didn't pursue her. I wouldn't leave Roach tied up in spider silk and I wasn't entirely certain that the goblin was actually dead. I kicked the beast onto its back. The corpse coughed up black smoke and little sparks, like a hot coal rolled out of a fire. Without a moment's hesitation, I drew what was left of my weapon out of him, wiped the blade clean on my cloak and sheathed it.

"Are you with me, Roach?" I asked, not turning to face him.

"Roach?" I repeated.

Roach cursed incoherently as our eyes met. He wasn't bleeding more than he already had been… but the way that he stared at me filled me with fear.

"You're all right. Good. Now get out of here! Go!" I snapped.

He seemed to want to say something, but I didn't wait for him to find the words. "Go!" I ordered him again.

Roach bolted, and as soon as I was sure he was gone, I started running in the opposite direction. I ran for about an hour and never saw any more of Calil's soldiers or any place that might have been the site of a battle. Quite possibly, the fae had laid an ambush and drug everyone they killed off into the trees to be eaten. Even still, Calil should have had at least four hundred men! The fae that had decimated my couldn't possibly have taken out such a force! Unless...

Were there _more_ of them nearby? Were the fae amassing a great army as they had centuries ago in the Balorian Crusade? If that was so, _they had to be stopped_!

I finally made it to the edge of the forest and stopped to rest for a moment at the foot of an old willow tree. The view from where I stood was awe-inspiring. From the top of the ridge where I stood I could see the river snaking through the valley below. A hawk danced on the wind and the air was thick with the scent of pines and melting snow. And then the sun began to rise, painting everything in gold.

I was no longer burning brightly. The bonfire surrounding me had dwindled down to little more than a flicker, a faint haze of light that blended into the rays of the dawning sun perfectly. For a moment I felt as if I were standing on the top of the world.

_ When __I __was __seven __years __old, __my __father __took__me __to __meet a__friend of his, the famous Abbot __Tepet __Manu. __I'__d __been __full __of __questions __at __that __age __and __after __listening __attentively __to __the __old __Immaculate __monk, __I __had __asked __him __as __only __a __child __could__… __how __did __he __know __that __the __Dragons __were __watching __over __him?_

_ Abbot __Manu __laughed. __"How __do __you __know __that __your __father __is __watching __you, __Loren?" __He __asked._

_ "I __see __him." __I __replied, __for __I __knew __that __he __was __standing __right __over __my __shoulder._

_ "And __I __see __the __Dragons." __Abbot __Manu __replied._

_ "Where?" __I __demanded. __I __saw __nothing, __of __course._

_ "In __everything." __Abbot __Manu __smiled. __And __that __was __all __he __would __say._

I collapsed to my knees. It was all I could do. It had been so long. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to _believe_.

Suddenly I heard a creaking sound behind me and turned to see what it was. It was a wizened little old man with skin like willow bark, obviously one of the local Gods. "You look most distressed, noble Sword of Heaven. Is there trouble afoot?" The little God whispered. He seemed very concerned.

"I don't know." I admitted truthfully. "For a moment, I was afraid." It seemed strange, confessing to such a weakness. "But I'm not now, and maybe I don't have reason to be." I paused. "May I rest here for a little while? I'll make sure no one bothers your tree."

"A very gracious offer! Who would have thought that one such as yourself would deign to protect my humble abode!" The little God smiled. "Would you like some tea? Yes? Well now, you might as well come inside!"

I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get into the little God's home. The ceiling was only a few inches above my head and the porcelain cup he gave me was so small I held it between two fingers for fear of breaking it.

The little God rambled on at some length about the recent depredations of the fae and the tribe of Wyld barbarians who were stealing winter supplies from his villagers. He spoke of two very old Anathema who'd begun assembling an army in the area. I remembered listening in on a briefing about the movements of their forces before I'd left Mnemon Rai's command tent. Still, hearing the little God speak of the barbaric Frenzied Silvermane and the terrible Trickster Heartsblood as if they were great heroes left me feeling even more uneasy. I sat in silence, nodding every so often. My thoughts were elsewhere. Was it truly a moment of clarity that I'd experienced earlier?

I drank a dozen cups of tea, thanked the little God and then excused myself as I noticed that the sun was high in the sky. I walked all day and for a few hours after the sun went down until I couldn't tolerate the chafing of my shattered armor any longer.

I stopped in a little grove of trees, undressed myself and examined the damaged lamellar plates. It was a small wonder that Roach had been suspicious… the Fae warhammer I'd been struck with should have broken every bone in my body. It would have, if I'd been mortal. But what was I, truly? With my sword broken, my armor irreparable and the one person I trusted in the world miles away… I was as lost as I had ever been in my life. I sighed heavily and buried my head in my hands.

"Oh what a sigh!" A familiar voice snickered. "You haven't changed at all! Still blaming yourself for not being able to save all of Creation, eh?"

I was not entirely surprised to see Amira standing over me. She was dressed exactly as she had been on our first meeting and she leaned on something as tall as she was. It was wrapped in a thick layer of coarse linen cloth.

"Heh. So the Wyld Hunt hasn't gotten you yet?" I was feeling more than a little cynical and could think of nothing else to say.

"They never will. You can't hunt a hunter." She smirked. "So, did you miss me?"

"I barely know you." I protested, though I was secretly very glad to see her. "And it's been ages since I saw you last!"

"It's been no more than ten years, which may seem like an age to you… but that's no time at all from my perspective. Loren, don't make me get my stupid stick!" She warned, jangling her silver bracelets in my face.

"You called me Loren?" I observed, surprised by her sudden change of tone.

"That's your name, isn't it?" She demanded. "Would you prefer "Little Monk"? She teased. The surprise I felt must have registered on my face. "Or… what does that Roach of yours call you? _Boss_?"

"You've been stalking me?" I glared at her.

"Guilty as charged!" Amira replied, completely unapologetic. "Luna's blood, you look like hell! I see you broke another sword." She rolled her eyes. "I saw that one coming."

"They don't make these things like they used to." I shrugged, examining the broken blade.

"They don't make _anything _like they used to." Amira sighed heavily. "And oh boy, is that ever an understatement!"

She paused for a moment and then gestured to the thing that she carried. "I brought a present for you. Looks like just in time too. I'm sorry it took me so long to find it, but you know I've always been a terrible packrat." She unraveled the cloth.

"Ta-da!" Amira bowed dramatically.

I stared at the lustrous orichalcum blade and the blood red hearthstone.

It was my daiklave.

The part of me that was Alexander had wielded that weapon in more battles than I could count. And when I had trained alone at my father's lakeside retreat, perfecting my skills… there were times when I could have sworn that I felt it in my hands.

I knew that my daiklave had been a gift to me from a very dear friend and seeing it so close reminded me of him. Without thinking, I found myself reaching for it and then recoiled as if I'd been struck by a snake.

"What's the matter with you?" Amira demanded. "Go on, take it! We've got a lot of walking to do. That sword of yours is damned heavy and I'm not carrying it anymore."

I couldn't find words to speak.

"Listen to me, Loren!" Amira sighed. "I'm only going to say this once and then I'm going to start whacking you with my stick! I know that you like to follow the rules, but the rules of this world_ need _to be broken! Things are _not _meant to be the way they are! You're _not_ a demon! You're Chosen… Exalted by the Unconquered Sun himself! You are _destined_ to be greater than you can imagine, bloody goddamned _glorious_! And you'd better get used to the idea of standing on your own two feet because if you spend the next thousand years like you've spent the last ten, I swear I will kill you myself!"

"Are you crazy? Even if I did take that blade from you, what could I possibly do with it? Walk up to Mnemon Rai and ask him to ignore the demon sword strapped to my back?" I protested.

"Old Thunderstormer may be a wily one, but he's still a Dragonblood. They were _bred_ to take orders!" Amira argued. "If you don't want to cut him down, then _command_ him to get out of your way! Luna-as-my-witness, _you __are __done __hiding!_ Creation needs you!" Amira sighed heavily. "Silvermane and I are moving against the fae tomorrow."

"Silvermane? Then you're…"

"Heartsblood. Yes. I thought you knew." She replied.

"Are you really a thousand years old?" I paused. It seemed like an idiotic question to pose to one of the most infamous Anathema in the Scavenger Lands, but it was all I could think of.

"Oh, I'm older than that!" She laughed.

"You don't look it." I observed.

"You didn't either, when I first came back to you!" She laughed slightly. "I was little more than a child then and you were positively terrifying! The last surviving general of the Primordial War, the unstoppable _Sword __of __the __Deliberative_! Everyone was certain you'd manipulate me if you even bothered to notice me at all! They all thought it would be centuries before we could even speak to each other, let alone see eye to eye." Amira sighed heavily. "But two weeks after we met in Meru, you kissed me when you thought I was sleeping and I knew that I'd never love anyone else the way I loved you. Not if I lived ten-thousand years!"

I stared at my daiklave, slowly absorbing everything that Amira had said.

"What is this, some kind of knightly vigil?" She demanded. "Are you coming or not?"

"No." I mumbled. "I _can't_."

"Oooh, I hate it when you say that! Fine! You're on your own then!" She snorted, turning to walk away, leaving the sword lying in front of me where I could not ignore it.

"You forgot something!" I shouted after her.

"Oh no, I'm not taking that back with me!" Amira snapped. "Loren, these woods are swarming with fae! If you won't come with me, you _will _need a weapon." She paused momentarily and eyed me with a little grin. "Besides, you want it. You know you do."

I grimaced. She was right. The longer I stared at that daiklave, the more I desired it. And yet I knew somehow that if I found the courage to pick it up, I would never put it down again.

"It was a gift. An… important gift." I paused. "Amira, who gave me that blade?"

"Who do you _think_?" Amira smiled slightly. "Loren, you once took this sword and drew a line across the edge of Creation. You said to the Wyld, 'This is the line you shall not cross!' And when those bastards ignored your warning, you sent them crawling back into the formless void that spawned them! Can't you think of anyone who would appreciate something like that?" She paused for a moment and then grinned wickedly. "Aw, c'mon… it missed you!" She nudged me with her elbow.

I still said nothing. I had the sneaking suspicion that if I refused to take my daiklave again, Amira would hit me with her stupid stick.

"Fine, I'll give you a choice!" Either you take your daiklave like a man or you can…" She leaned in close to me and whispered something in my ear that no gentleman would dare repeat. I was certain that my face had turned the same color as the hearthstone I was still staring at.

"That's not very ladylike." It was a stupid response, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Who says I'm a lady?" Amira retorted in a very deep, masculine voice.

I blinked in shock and Amira collapsed against my shoulder in a fit of uncontrollable giggling. "Oh, you should've seen yourself! You jumped right out of your skin!"

"Why do you insist on tormenting me?" I demanded, utterly humiliated.

"Complain, complain! You should be grateful! I'm a very busy woman and there are lots of people who'd love to have as much of my time as you've been getting!" She sighed heavily.

"But why _me_? Why don't you find yourself another…" The word I'd been about to speak stuck suddenly in my throat. I realized that I'd never actually said it out loud before. Of course, I'd thought it many times, but to actually say it? From the grin on Amira's face, it was obvious that she knew why I was stammering.

"Find myself another _what_?" She taunted.

I sighed heavily. "Some other…" I began, but I couldn't finish what I had started to say, not with Amira grinning. I felt like an absolute fool. "If I say it, will you leave me alone?" I asked.

"Oh, I'll do _anything_ you want!" Amira vowed in a tone that sent my mind reeling. "But start at the beginning! I want to hear the whole thing! I'm so excited! This is a big step for you!"

It was useless to argue with her. "Why don't you find yourself another Solar?" I mumbled, burying my head in my hands.

Amira gasped theatrically. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me until I was forced to look up at her. "Oh, Loren! Speak to me, you great useless git! Are you implying that _you_ are a _Solar_? A Bronze Tiger, Sword of Heaven, _Lawgiver_? Chosen of the Unconquered Sun and Lord of all Creation?"

The sobriquet "Lawgiver" stuck in my head. It was one I had not heard in a very long time. In a world nearly consumed by chaos, I could think of nothing more necessary. I remembered what Amira had said about drawing a line across the edge of Creation and _forbidding_ the fae to cross it. The thought of such a mad feat sent a chill racing down my spine. It could be done. I could do it.

"_Yes."_ I nodded, swallowing the lump that rose in my throat.

It was a tremendous thing to acknowledge, even if I didn't dare speak louder than a whisper. Amira was hardly satisfied. "I didn't hear that!" She cupped a hand to her ear.

"I said _yes,_you lunatic! I am a Solar!" I shouted so loud that most of the forest must have heard me. And then I started to cry, which was something I could not ever remember doing, not since I was a child. My whole body was actually shaking.

That was when Amira kissed me. I'd been kissed before, of course, but I'd never had a kiss that encompassed so much. Soldiers don't have much time for relationships, and affection of any kind is most often feigned in a Dynast's household. I had sensed the connection between Amira and myself before we'd ever met. I'd told myself that she was a monster because the truth was even more terrifying. Over the centuries we'd been comrades-in-arms, confidants, lovers… but it was more than any of those things that drew us together. Our souls had been bound together since the beginning of time. I needed her to be everything that I could be. All of my life, I had only ever been _half _of myself.

When we both at last surrendered to sleep, still holding one another, I felt healed. For certain, I was now charging headlong down a path that I'd never even imagined walking, but if Amira was by my side, I believed that everything was going to be all right.

In the morning when I woke, Amira was gone. There was no sign of my daiklave either. At first I suspected that I'd dreamt of our entire meeting… but then I saw that my shattered lamellar armor and my broken sword had been repaired by someone of unparalleled skill. And over a thousand years of practice, no doubt.

I dressed myself and was about to start heading west when I heard the sound of horses approaching.

"Cathak?" It was Mnemon Rai's voice that I heard, and I knew it was useless to hide from him. "Old Thunderstormer" was a very strong Air Aspect and could track a man for miles merely by listening for the sound of his breath disturbing the natural currents of the air. Riding beside him were several of his officers and Roach.

"Winglord." I saluted instinctively and then clenched my fists, vowing that I would not draw my blade. I already carried the weight of my brother's death. I was not about to fight the honorable commander I'd served under for so many years.

"Where have you been?" Mnemon demanded.

I blinked in surprise. He didn't know?

"Your Roach told me he last saw you chasing off a pack of fae. Damn fool thing to do on your own. I should reprimand you for being so reckless." Mnemon Rai informed me, though his tone said that he wouldn't. "But right now I'm rather glad you're alive."

I stared in disbelief at Roach. He'd _lied_? Why?

"Someone get this man a horse!" Mnemon Rai ordered.

When we made it back to camp, our scouts reported that they had found the fae. There were thousands of them gathering, enough to take out a whole Legion... and they were moving slowly in the direction of Nexus, the only city in Creation that did not have its own standing army. Old Thunderstormer confessed that he could not remember a time when the fae had been so bold.

Roach and I rode along the crest of a small hill, taking a good long look at our enemy. So far, there was no sign of their leaders, but I had a sneaking suspicion that my old enemy "The Duchess" would soon make an appearance. Our soldiers were already in the field below us, prepared but vastly outnumbered. My brand-new Talon was already forty men short, and Mnemon Rai was missing nearly the same number. Out of Sesus Calil's soldiers, more than half were still unaccounted for, although some had escaped the massacre that had cost their commander his eyes and his life.

We only had four implosion bows still functioning and no other artillery. Worse still, all of our wounded were camped less than a mile away. There was no way we could retreat without abandoning them. Though I normally didn't put much stock in prayers, I ordered every would-be monk and petty thamaturge I could find to start giving out blessings.

"That's _a __lot_ of fae!" Roach whistled. "I don't suppose you could chase off a few hundred of em', eh Boss?" He gave me a conspiratorial wink.

"I've meant to ask you, Roach. Why didn't you…" For the life of me, I couldn't form the question that I wanted to ask.

"Turn you in?" He laughed slightly. "Look, I know you really believe that Perfected Hierarchy stuff, but don't you remember where you found me?"

I nodded, still uncomfortable with the memory. I'd never liked hunting down peasants, regardless of whether they were refusing to pay taxes, worshipping demons, or harboring fugitives_._

"My mother wasn't a whore, Loren. She was a priestess." Roach paused. "Not Illuminated, but... a believer. And maybe I've been with the Winds sixteen years, but you know I'm stubborn. No one ever beat _all_ the heresy out of me!"

I considered what he had said and slowly began to understand. There were heretics throughout the Realm, but the tribe that Roach had been born into, the Murqai, were zealous and very often violent. They claimed that their God was greater than all of the Dragons combined, wise, compassionate, and absolutely invincible in battle.

The name that they gave him was _Shamas __Majeed_.

_ The __Unconquered __Sun._

"Look, it's _not _what you think!" I argued. Though I was glad that Roach was still my friend, I didn't want him believing that I was some kind of deity.

"Oh, it is _exactly_ what I think!" Roach replied. He put his hands together, and cracked his knuckles.

"Roach!" I protested. "Please, don't say anything! Someone will here you!"

"So? Everyone's already suspicious! You turned a lot of heads back in the Imperial City when you were just kicking Kes Lidaal's ass at Gateway and wiping the floor with those boys at Paisap's Stair! But out here, in the field…" He whistled. "You're going to have to quit the army."

"I _can't_!" I protested.

"Damnit, Boss!" Roach rolled his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be saving the world?"

I smiled slightly despite myself. Of course, my reaction told Roach what he already knew... that he was right.

The two of us stared out over the hordes of fae.

"You know, Old Thunderstormer's been praying to the Dragons since you went missing." Roach continued. "And I do hope they're watching over us right now." He elbowed me with a mischievous wink. "But personally, I feel better _knowing_ that we've got a _Sword of Heaven_ on our side!"

That sobriquet was _very _difficult to ignore. Of course, what Roach did next was worse. "_Shamas __Majeed_ _nasr __al __din!__" _He put his fist in the air, giving a very authentic, unbelievably shrill Murqai war cry. Some of our men heard him and immediately came running to see what the commotion was.

I was absolutely mortified. "Roach!" I hissed. "What was that for? In one breath you're praising the Dragons and in the next you're spouting… all kinds of heresy! Which side are you on?"

"The same side we're all on." Roach replied smugly. "The side of Creation."

"The side of Creation." I echoed. I'd never thought of it that way before.

Roach gave me another critical look. "Did you just call me a heretic? I'll own that, but you're not a believer? How are you not a believer?"

"Just stop it! You're going to cause a panic!" I scolded him. It would have taken far too long to explain that I knew almost nothing about the God of the Sun, apart from the fact that he'd made me what I was. When I'd tried to speak to him in the past, the words had never sounded right.

"Trouble, Talonlord?" The first soldier to reach us asked.

"Not yet." I replied.

"Uhoh." Roach squinted at the horizon line. "Looks like you spoke too soon, Boss."

My gaze drifted in the direction that he was pointing, and Roach produced his spyglass.

"We've got company." He observed.

Another army had come within sight, about a thousand strong. Marching near the front were a number of Lunars, at least six that I could identify. Two seemed to be the leaders. The first was a huge lion covered in scars and the second was an equally large and intimidating wolf. I knew that the wolf was Amira. Her "stupid stick" had extended to the length of a pike and had a piece of white cloth attached to it.

That was when Mnemon Rai arrived.

"What's the trouble?" He demanded. "Yarati tells me we're being attacked by Murqai."

"I haven't seen any Murqai, Winglord. But you should probably take a look at this." I passed him Roach's spyglass. He scanned the horizon very quickly and then caught what I was pointing at.

"Anathema?" Mnemon Rai cursed. "Dragons, this day can't get any worse!"

"That's a white flag, sir." I pointed to Amira. "They don't want to fight us."

_"_Cathak, are you actually suggesting we _negotiate _with the demons?" Mnemon Rai scoffed. "I'd rather deal with the fae!"

"Should we signal the fae then, sir? See how they respond?" My response was a little colder than it should have been and Old Thunderstormer seemed surprised to hear me mocking him. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want _anything_ to do with the fae, and while my feelings on other "Anathema" were still somewhat mixed, I knew that Amira would never harm me or anyone I cared about. "There are enough monsters down there to take out a legion!" I reminded him.

"With all due respect, Winglord… the Boss has got a point." Roach interrupted. "The demons want to talk. Maybe you ought to hear them out."

"Very well. Signal them." He ordered Roach. "Cathak, you're with me."

In a surprisingly short time, a meeting was arranged. Mnemon Rai and I rode down into the eastern portion of the valley, as far as possible from the fae. Amira and her companion came to meet us. The Lunars towered over our horses.

It took every ounce of willpower I possessed for me not to stare at Amira as she resumed her human form. She looked exactly as she had more than a thousand years ago, wearing a circlet set with moonstones and a suit of exceptionally fine silver armor… or at least I suspected it was armor, even though it didn't cover enough of her body to be considered such. With the mark on her brow flickering, she was both beautiful and terrifying.

"Well now. You Anathema are certainly bold, expecting mercy from the Ravenous Winds." Mnemon Rai paused.

"Your name and reputation is known to us, Dragonblood." Amira smiled slightly. It was not a nice smile. "I am Amira Heartsblood, and this is Kahn Silvermane. We represent the Sun-King Seneschals."

"Hm. I've heard of you as well, Heartsblood… not much good, I'm afraid. I must confess that have my doubts as to your sincerity of purpose. Now why did you signal?" Mnemon Rai demanded.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, it is said." Silvermane replied. As I expected, his voice was very deep and he spoke with an accent that made me suspect he was more comfortable conversing in Old Realm. "We know that you intend to fight the fae. Furthermore, our spies tell us that you cannot retreat without leaving behind your wounded. And so we have decided to stand with you in exchange for one of your men."

"You want me." I interrupted.

Amira and Silvermane both nodded gravely.

"What?" Mnemon Rai stared at me in disbelief. "Why?"

"We are at war." Silvermane replied. "And this man is the greatest warrior ever to have lived."

Mnemon Rai stared at Silvermane, an incredulous expression on his face. The old Lunar did not even blink. Apparently he believed _exactly _what he had said.

"Well, he's got talent, I won't deny that!" Mnemon Rai sighed. "But you monsters probably intend to eat him!" He sneered. "And I for one would rather fight and die with honor than sacrifice a good man to a pack of demons!"

"We're _not _demons!" Amira snarled. "We are the Stewards of Creation and those fae are a threat to everything we've sworn to defend! Now do you want us to help you kill them all, or should we wait until most of your men are dead to finish them off?"

I could tell that Mnemon Rai was hesitating.

"Sir?" I whispered. "If all they want is me, you shouldn't refuse."

"Very well, demons. You have yourself a deal." Mnemon Rai replied. "But mark my words… if I discover you've murdered the best first officer I've ever had, I _will_ hunt you down to the ends of Creation!"

Hesitantly, the Winglord reached out for Silvermane's enormous paw. They shook, and then Mnemon Rai turned to Amira, who only bowed slightly in his direction. It was clearly meant to be patronizing. She didn't take her eyes off of him as she should have if she intended to be polite. Then again, with what I remembered of the First Age, I wasn't entirely surprised to discover that the two old Lunars did not think any Dragonblood could be worthy of their respect.

I still believed that there were good Dragonbloods. Neither my father nor Mnemon Rai had been alive in the last days of the Deliberative, and if they had been, I believed that they would not have acted as the others had.

Silvermane approached me. He cupped both of his paws around my hand. It was clear from the way that he stood that he would have preferred to be on one knee. "It is an honor to fight with you again." He whispered, bowing his head slightly.

"Morning, lover." Amira winked. I tried not to react badly and glanced over my shoulder to see if the Winglord was watching me. He seemed preoccupied with his horse. The animal clearly didn't like being so close to Silvermane and was pulling very hard on its bit. I sighed in relief. Amira was doing her damnedest to break me, and I was not going to give her the satisfaction.

"Amira, last night how did you..." I began. What I meant to ask was how she had repaired my sword and my armor, but I didn't get the chance.

"What's the matter? Afraid you were dreaming?" Amira teased, putting one finger to my lips.

It was _very_ difficult to resist kissing her, but I knew I was being watched.

"Cathak?" Mnemon Rai interrupted. "Are you ready?"

I immediately composed myself.

"Oh, and one more thing, "Thunderstormer"!" Silvermane warned. "My warriors will aid you, but they will not _obey_ you, Dragonblood! So leave your notions of 'superiority' up there on your little hill!"

Mnemon Rai twitched slightly and seemed ready to defend himself, probably by calling Silvermane a demon or something equally offensive. Before I considered what I was doing, I positioned myself between the two of them.

"No! Don't respond to that!" I ordered Mnemon Rai. "And you, _do __not _goad him!" I ordered Silvermane. He blinked in surprise and then bowed, mumbling an apology. Mnemon Rai eyed me suspiciously.

I took a deep breath. "Even together, we are outnumbered! If we want to be rid of those fae, we must _not_ fight amongst ourselves! We either act as one or not at all!"

"I agree!" Amira chimed in. She seemed very pleased that I was taking charge. And as I watched Silvermane and Mnemon Rai both still glaring at each other… I began to suspect that I was in the middle of a very elaborate set-up.

The Winglord paused for a moment. He was a smart man, and while his pride would not allow him to bow his head before an Anathema, he knew he would have to make some sort of concession. He turned to me. "Cathak, I will confess, I would like to know what business you have with these demons. But you're right, this isn't the time or the place for bickering. If we fail here, those fae army will continue marching towards Nexus and very many innocent people will die. We cannot allow that to happen."

Silvermane nodded in agreement.

"And while I don't trust you Anathema, and you don't trust me… we do seem to have one thing in common." Mnemon Rai continued, his eyes drifting towards me again. "Would you follow Loren?" He asked Silvermane.

"Yes." The old Lunar replied without hesitation.

"So would I." Mnemon Rai smiled slightly. "Cathak… take good care of my Winds, will you? They're yours."

Silvermane and Amira both bowed dramatically, a clear gesture of concession. Their army began to cheer as if the battle were already won. Mnemon Rai gave the signal and a flag immediately went up on our side to show that we had an accord. I stared at the Winglord in disbelief and caught his blue cloak as he let it drop into my hands.

I was in command.

Riding back to our lines, I was shocked by how many eyes were upon me.

There were men and women, Dragonbloods, beastmen, and even phenomenally powerful Lunars all awaiting my orders. Such an army had not been seen in over a thousand years!

I considered the field. We were still outnumbered, and I would not underestimate the fae, but... there had to be a way!

That was when the perfect plan occurred to me. I smiled slightly.

"You seem confident, Cathak." Mnemon Rai observed. "You don't have a problem fighting alongside demons?"

"I'll fight with anyone who wants to kill fair folk. Those beasts are worse than any Anathema. I believe you said that yourself, Winglord." I replied. "It's obvious that Silvermane and Heartsblood have as much invested in this as we do. Today, we're all on the side of Creation."

"Heh." Mnemon Rai observed with a wry smile. "You've changed quite a bit these past ten years."

"I suppose I have gotten soft." I replied, trying to underplay everything as much as I could. "But that's because I've been doing your paperwork, remember?"

"No, no!" Mnemon Rai shook his head. "I didn't mean to insult! It's just that I can't believe you've been away from the front lines for more than a month, let alone a decade! You have a very beautiful gift." He paused. "People _want _to follow you. I'm not even going to ask how you got those Anathema on your side." He paused. "Generally speaking, I don't believe that The Dragons make mistakes. But you remind me so much of your father."

"I think that's the very best complement anyone has ever given me." I smiled slightly. "Whatever may happen out there… it's been a privilege to serve with you, sir." I felt compelled to say some parting words, since I knew that very soon Old Thunderstormer would no longer have to guess what sort of relationship I had with our new allies. Maybe I'd cracked the legendary demon hunter's armor? I didn't expect that we would remain friends, but it seemed possible that I'd planted a seed of doubt somewhere in his heart… and that over time, perhaps he would begin to see Creation as Roach did, as a place not meant to be so harshly divided. Mnemon Rai already believed that some mortals could be as good or better than the Dragonblooded. Would it be such a stretch for him to admit not all "Anathema" were evil?

"Ah." Mnemon Rai observed. "You have a plan?"

I did. The strategy I proposed was simple and elegant. I positioned the Lunars and myself in the center and divided the rest of our forces in two parts. They would drive up the flanks as the fae would be compelled to direct the bulk of their strength against the portion of our line which appeared strongest. And once they came down the center, we would collapse and let them pass through us… just as our soldiers crushed them from behind.

"Like a crab's claw." I explained. "A pincher."

"But how can you be certain the fae will come after you?" Mnemon Rai asked.

I pointed to a single white figure inspecting a large number of goblin footsoldiers. "That one is called "The Duchess". I've taken out a few of her fiends." I laughed.

"I see. You're turning into quite the Faeslayer, aren't you?" Mnemon Rai observed.

Both Amira and Silvermane grinned very broadly at the sound of that name. Of course, they both knew that "Faeslayer" had been Alexander's nickname. Mnemon Rai gave me an odd look.

"Are we ready?" I asked.

"We are indeed!" Silvermane nodded.

"Time for revenge, Winds!" Mnemon Rai shouted, drawing his sword.

"Should we do it the way we used to?" Amira smirked, nudging me.

"Of course." I nodded, knowing precisely what she intended. Together, we walked to the very best vantage point where no one could possibly miss us.

"_You crossed the line_!" Amira shouted. The fae could not have missed her words. Her voice was as loud as an artillery blast. That was when I realized that her white flag of truce was not actually white. Though it was extremely faded, it bore the unmistakable heraldry of the Deliberative, a radiant golden sun made from the symbols of the five Solar Castes.

"What's this business?" Mnemon Rai demanded.

"Crossed the line! Crossed the line!" Silvermane, the other Lunars, and their beastman allies picked up the chante. The fae reacted spectacularly. Those who realized what was happening literally froze in their tracks.

"Whatever it is, the fae sure don't like it." A soldier remarked, watching the army on the horizon.

"Good." Mnemon Rai smiled slightly. "Carry on, Cathak."

I wasn't actually waiting for his permission, but I still nodded cordially in his direction.

"Send them back!" Amira shouted, raising her stick.

"Send them back! Send them back!" The Winds picked up the chant.

A burst of fire shot over our heads. The fae had come in range of Mnemon Rai's implosion bows. The battle had begun. I felt the thundering charge rolling down the hillside in my bones. Amira shifted into the form of a wolf, as tall at the shoulder as my horse. Our eyes met.

"And if they don't go back?" I smiled slightly.

"Kill the faeries!" Amira roared. The Lunars threw their fists and weapons into the air.

As I'd anticipated, the Duchess brought the bulk of her forces charging after me. The fighting was especially fierce, but Amira kept the fae off of my back. As the two of us tore through the heart of their army, I struck with every technique that I had mastered in all my years of training.

When I lost my horse, I leapt into the air. I wasn't flying, I was jumping, but that didn't change what it looked like I'd just done. I saw more than a few familiar faces staring up at me in awe. The faint flicker of light that had been steadily growing around me burst into a roaring golden bonfire. I flew as if I had phoenix wings and landed with a force that shook the earth directly in front of the Duchess.

I was revealed. There was no more going back, no more hiding! And the more I considered that, the more I realized that I had no desire to undo what I had just done. It was time for me to leave my old life behind. As Roach had guessed… _I __had __plans._

Disorder overcame the fae. The center of our forces collapsed perfectly as the flanking legions routed them from behind. The fae would come to learn that there was a price to be paid for despoiling Creation! The Duchess heard me approaching and whirled around, snaring the blade of my sword with a whip of her silk and snapping it cleanly in half.

"Loren!" Amira shouted.

Something whizzed through the air. I jumped into the air again and caught my daiklave as Amira hurled at me. And the instant I touched upon that weapon, I _remembered!_

I knew who had given it to me… and _why._

_ The __war __against __the __Primordials __had __finally __ended __and __the __Incarnae __were __firmly __established __as __the __rulers __of __Heaven. __There __were __not __many __of __us __Solar __Exalted __still __remaining __after __the __last __battle, __only __seven __out __of __the __three-hundred __that __had __been __forged __in __the __beginning __of __time. __And __as __the __greatest __of __the __Gods __prepared __to __depart __the __world __and __begin __his __new __work__… __he __gave __each __of __us __a __gift._

_ "Creation __is __yours __now." __The __Unconquered __Sun __said __as __he __placed __the __daiklave __in __my __hands.__"Take __good __care __of __it."_

As I drew more Essence for my next attack, the light flaring around me before exploded outwards in all directions. I'd never felt anything so profoundly liberating!

I brought my daiklave down with all the strength I possessed, a sea of white-gold phantasmal soldiers formed of Essence charging all around me, burning through the fae as if they were nothing more than feeble scraps of paper blown on the wind. The Duchess collapsed with a sickening crunch, all of her spidery limbs rolling around her seared corpse until there was nothing left of her but a dark smear on the ground and the stench of decay.

That was when the fae began to flee. "The Faeslayer! The Faeslayer has returned!" They cried. Whatever sense of solidarity had united them against us… it was gone at that instant. Shrieking in terror, the goblins clawed and scrambled over one another in an attempt to reach the trees.

A single figure dressed in scarlet robes caught my eye, and as she vanished into nothingness, leaving the rest to be cut down… I knew that I had finally seen the real mastermind behind the attacks. Though I was too late to stop her from escaping, I committed her appearance to memory, anticipating that we would crossed paths again.

Surrounded by a pillar of light that reached up to the very heavens, I followed Amira to where Silvermane and Mnemon Rai were waiting on a bluff overlooking the valley. I already knew that there were sure to be many dead and wounded, but this time I could not blame myself for not trying to save them all. I was glad to see that Roach had made it through the fight as well, even if he would have a new scar on his face to add to his collection. Silvermane nodded politely in my direction, the gesture of one old soldier to another. Lunars have a great appreciation for martial skill and it was clear that my performance had lived up to his expectations.

Mnemon Rai could not look at me. He shielded his eyes but he said nothing at all. It was just as well. I'd served with the man long enough that I could tell what he was thinking. He knew that he should hate me, but he could not find the strength to do so. And since he was an honorable man… he would give me the moment I needed to run before ordering his soldiers to hunt me down.

I said nothing, effortlessly slung my daiklave over my shoulder, and began to walk away. After a few moments, Amira bounded after me.

"Where are you going?" She demanded, resuming her usual form. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"No. I'm going to try following the sun for awhile. You could come with me?" I suggested.

"I'd follow you even if you forbade me to! But maybe we ought to head West from here. Word of this is bound to spread. Pretty soon you'll be dodging every two-bit Immaculate who wants to bag himself Cathak Loren "The Great Faeslayer"."

"I probably should stop using my name or we'll have House Cathak after us too." I admitted. "Besides, Loren "The Great" doesn't really have a ring to it."

The sound of a horse galloping up behind me caused me to turn. It was Roach, pursued by no less than half of the Winglord's remaining men.

"Boss, wait!" He shouted. "Wait for me!"

"Roach? What did he do?" Amira stared in disbelief.

"Well, if I know Roach, he probably just told Mnemon Rai that he knew what was going on all along!" I laughed slightly. "Looks like we'd better start running now. We're going to be doing a lot of that sort of thing, aren't we?"

"Honestly, Alexander… would you have it any other way?" Amira winked.

"You just called me Alexander." I informed her.

"You said you needed a new name!" She reminded me.

"But _Alexander_?" I protested.

"Alexander _The __Great_." She clarified. "Now _that _has ring to it, don't you think?"


End file.
